Past Mistakes
by LittleFairy78
Summary: Shawn wanted to be on the newest SBPD murder case. Little does he know that the investigation might unearth things that hit too close to home. What will he do when he gets to know things about his father he'd rather not have known? Angsty, whumpage...:D
1. Prologue: I don't care about Mickey

"A Seed of Doubt" challenge by Twyla over on Psychfic dot com.

"A seed of doubt once planted, sown deep had begun to crack the very foundation that united them."

**Disclaimer**: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Past Mistakes**

_**Prologue: I Don't Care About Mickey, I'm in for the Rides...**_

_Santa Barbara, late Spring, 1987_

_"But Dad, you promised!", Shawn protested and stomped his foot on the living room floor._

_"I didn't promise, I said 'we'll see'. That's a difference, Shawn. And if I see you stomping your foot again, we'll never talk about it again."_

_"But…"_

_"No buts, Shawn", Henry interrupted. "I know we've been talking about making the trip to Disneyland this summer, but that was before the transmission in the car gave out and had to be replaced. Do you know what putting a new transmission into the car costs?"_

_"No sir," Shawn brought out from behind a pout._

_"Enough to put some serious stop to any Disneyland plans. Shawn, we've had a number of unexpected expenditures this year, the new transmission being last on the list. Your mother and I are going to have some serious thinking to do whether we can afford that trip to Disneyland or not. I'm just telling you not to get too excited about it yet, because as of now it doesn't look as if we could make it this year."_

_"That's just what you always say. Last year it was because you had to work, this year it's the money and next year there will be something else. That's unfair. I'll never get to Disneyland."_

_Henry sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Shawn, why don't you go upstairs and finish your homework before dinner. We'll talk about this again once your mother and I have come to a decision."_

_"That's not fair!", Shawn said again, turned around and ran out of the room and up the stairs. He slammed the door to his room with as much force as he could muster, knowing that his Dad was probably going to berate him for it but not caring the least bit about it. He threw himself on top of his bed and punched the pillow as hard as he could._

_It just wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that his Dad always had to ruin everything. Already he wasn't allowed to read all the other comic books his friends and classmates were reading all the time. But so far, there had been nothing his Dad had been able to say against Disney. Not that Shawn was so into going to Disneyland for Mickey and Donald, or those stupid parades, on the contrary. All right there were some ideas in the back of his head about Mickey, but those were ideas best reserved for the last day of their stay at Disneyland, when being kicked out wouldn't matter anymore._

_No, Shawn was in it for the rides. To his nine-year old self, solely the imagination of all the rides in Disneyland were paradise. Ever since last year Shawn had been bugging his parents about going to Disneyland, and even his Dad had not been against the idea. Strange enough, seeing that his Dad's idea of a family holiday was staying at a remote fishing cabin somewhere in the middle of nowhere._

_But Shawn should have known from the start that all this talk about going to Disneyland was just that – talk. Empty talk. Last summer, his Dad had been working a huge case, and by the time the case had been closed, Shawn's holidays had been nearly over. Goodbye Disneyland._

_But he had promised they'd go this year. Well, not in those exact words, but he had made it unmistakably clear that they'd definitely go this year. It was as good as a promise. And the worst part was that Gus would be going. They had been planning it ever since last fall, and finally Gus' parents had relented and had agreed to take Gus to Disneyland this summer. It had been the perfect plan. Four glorious days of ice-cream cones, hot dogs and rollercoaster rides. Shawn was ready and willing to spend the rest of his summer going on fishing tours with his dad if that was what it took._

_But now the stupid car had broken, giving his Dad just the reason he needed to ruin another of Shawn's summers._

_Shawn hit the pillow again. And again. And again. It didn't make him feel any better, but at least it was something to do._

_Having slapped his pillow into a little pulp on his bed, Shawn got up and started pacing the room. There had to be something he could do, he only had to figure out what it was._

_After a few minutes of pacing, Shawn became aware of raised voices from downstairs. He sighed. On top of everything else, his parents were arguing again._

_Silently, Shawn opened his bedroom door, and crept out into the corridor. Taking care to remain in the shadows, Shawn descended the stairs as far as he dared and then stopped to listen. His parents were in the kitchen and couldn't see him, but there was just no way that Shawn could miss their shouting._

_"…shouldn't have told him that we're not going until we're sure there's no way it'll work out!", his Mom said sharply._

_"I didn't tell him that!", his Dad's voice shot back._

_"Oh, and then why did he just storm upstairs, slamming his door shut?"_

_"Because that's Shawn! I told him we _might_ not be going, he hears we _aren't_ going. It's not my fault that he never listens."_

_Shawn knew that tone of voice. It meant his father was getting fed up with explaining, which meant that the loud discussion would soon turn into full blown shouting on both his parents' part._

_"I told you to wait until you tell him anything, Henry."_

_"What, and let him get more excited about going to Disneyland by the day? And what was I supposed to tell him then? Sorry buddy, we're not going, too bad you spent the last weeks getting excited about it? Fat load of good that would have done. Now at least he knows that it isn't sure we'll be going on holiday this year and can prepare for it. He's old enough!"_

_"He's a nine year old who wants nothing more than to spend his holidays with his best friend, somewhere he enjoys himself for a change."_

_"Oh, and what's that supposed to mean?"_

_Yep, now the point was reached where the original reason for the argument began to fade into the background and his parents started yelling at each other. Shawn had heard that particular style of argument often enough over the course of the past weeks, he didn't need another performance._

_As silently as he had come, he got up from his seat on the stairs and crept back into his room. When dinnertime came around, both his parents would pretend that nothing had happened, though they probably wouldn't be speaking to each other for the rest of the evening, and his Dad would ask about the homework for sure. So he'd better get it done before his parents saw that as the next best excuse to have a go at each other again._

_He didn't know what was going on with them lately, but he would get to the bottom of it. And he would go to Disneyland, come what may. He'd definitely not be listening to Gus' tales of just how great the rollercoaster rides had been. He'd be there, one way or the other._


	2. You might be stuck but I know a shortcut

**Chapter 1 – You might be stuck, but I know a shortcut**

"Shawn, you know what happens if Lassiter gets to know about this."

Shawn snorted. "Gus, as if that's going to happen. I'm the master of sneakery." He cast a glance at his friend. "Sneakery? Sneakiness? Sneakaria? Sneakadiddelydoo?"

Gus sighed. "Sneakiness. And going through the files on Lassiter's desk in the middle of the day has nothing to do with sneakiness, it has to do with stupidity. What if he comes back?"

Shawn opened a folder and started scanning the contents. "No he won't. I have the strong feeling that Lassie has other things on his mind right now."

"Yeah? Like what, Shawn?"

"Like getting out of the records room. See, occasionally the door gets stuck if it falls closed. Especially if the strange phenomenon of reversed gravity caused a broom to lodge itself in front of the door like a deadbolt." Shawn closed the file, tossed it aside and grabbed the next one.

"You locked Lassiter into the records room?"

"Shhh", Shawn hissed and looked around to see if anybody had heard. When none of the police officers around showed any reaction, he looked at Gus again.

"Could you maybe yell a little louder next time? Just so that Chief Vick can hear you as well?"

"You locked Lassiter into the records room?", Gus repeated, less loudly this time.

"Not me, Gus. Gravity. It's important that you remember that. Reversed gravity locked Lassie up, I had nothing to do with it. And I want you to say exactly that, even after the judge reminds you that you are under oath. Besides, it was for the greater good."

Gus shook his head. "No, it was because you can't stand not to be involved in this case."

"See? My point exactly. Besides, I know for sure that the police is stuck, and because Lassiter had the crime scene under lock and key until the clean up crew arrived, we have to rely on the case file. Now, would you be so good to do what a stakeout is supposed to do and keep an eye out for anybody coming?"

Gus rolled his eyes but obediently turned around and kept glancing at the other officers, always keeping an eye out on the closed door to Chief Vick's office. A couple of minutes later, Shawn snapped the file shut and pulled Gus towards the exit by his arm.

"You found something?"

Shawn didn't answer, but there was a grin on his face that was answer enough.

"Oh yeah, you found something."

Gus raised his fist and Shawn bumped his own fist against it.

"So why don't we go and tell the Chief?"

Shawn shook his head and opened the front doors of the SBPD, stepping out into the bright sunlight.

"Not yet. I still need to figure out how it all fits together. I need food for thought, Gus. I need a smoothie."

Fifteen minutes later, Gus and Shawn were walking along the beach promenade, each with a smoothie in their hand. Shawn took a deep drag of his pineapple smoothie and savoured the flavour for a moment.

"All right, what do we have so far? We have a murder. Richard Berger, a thirty-two year old guy who works in a marina, is shot to death near the harbour. However, the body is not thrown into the water, even though it was apparent that it would be discovered as soon as the first shift of marina workers arrived in the morning. We have no apparent motive, no witnesses, no suspects. Right?"

Gus nodded. "Right. And since the police is obviously stuck on this one, they've surely gone over the crime scene with a fine-tooth comb. So what is it that you found in the file?"

"Darren O'Leary."

Shawn stopped dramatically and took another deep drag of his smoothie, just as if he had already explained everything.

"Who is Darren O'Leary?"

Shawn rolled his eyes. "Darren O'Leary is our victim's co-worker. And his roommate. Obviously, wages at the marina aren't really steep, so the two of them were sharing a small apartment. His statement is in Lassie's case file, and I'm telling you that this is what the police have overlooked."  
"What, you think he did it?"

"I don't know, why don't we go and find out?"

Gus stopped. "Are you crazy, Shawn? You're not seriously thinking about going and interviewing a murder suspect, are you? Because if you are, you can do it on your own. Don't count me in."

Shawn finished his smoothie and tossed the empty container into a nearby trash bin. "Now Gus. Guster. Gusterino. Where do you get the ridiculous thought that I'd endanger you like that?"

"I got two words for you. Mexican border."

Shawn waved his hand impatiently. "That was different, and it was all an accident. Besides, I don't think they would have really shot at us."

Gus rolled his eyes. "Shawn. O'Leary?"

"Right. To soothe your troubled mind, no, I don't think O'Leary had anything to do with Berger's murder. At least not directly. But his statement doesn't add up, a fact which our friends on the force have conveniently overlooked, and which just might get us in on the case if we figure out what he knows."  
"What should he know?"

Shawn continued walking towards Gus' car, and Gus fell into step beside him. "His statement was pretty clear on when he had last seen Berger, and his story of their last shift together seemed to add up well enough. But there were some things in his statement that seemed strange. First he says that Berger didn't own a car, and later when he was asked to recount the day he told Lassiter that Berger drove off from work without telling him anything about his plans. He said Berger didn't have any trouble at work, but the boss in his statement said that Berger had been late four times during the past two weeks and had been warned off about it."

"So he got some things mixed up in his statement. I mean, it could have been the shock about getting to know that his roommate had been killed."

Shawn gave a half-shrug as they reached the car and waited for Gus to unlock it. "Could be. But I don't believe it. If you live and work together with somebody, you should get at least the thing about the car right. And you should know whether or not your co-worker came to work on time, because well, his statement said they got to work together. Because O'Leary owns a car, and Berger didn't."

Gus unlocked the doors and the two got into the car. "So what do you think is the reason why he doesn't tell the truth?"

"I think he knows more than he lets on. He might know who killed Berger and why, but he doesn't tell the police. Conclusion: he's either in on it, which I don't really believe yet, or whatever he knows about killer or motive makes him scared for his own life, or he wants to exploit whatever he knows about killer or motive. I say we go talk to him and see if we can't psychically get some answers out of him. Sooner or later Jules and Lassie are going to stumble across the inconsistencies in his statement, if we get to the bottom of this before them we're in on the case."

Gus rolled his eyes, but he put the car into gear and backed out onto the road.

"All right, so what's the address?"

Shawn grinned. "See? I knew you'd want to come."

"Yeah, right. But we discover anything suspicious going and we're out of there. And I mean it this time, Shawn."

"Of course, Gus. Now put our faithful horse into gear and let's ride towards the horizon. We have damsels in distress to save and hideous forms of crime to defeat."

"Shawn?"

"Yes?"

"Shut up."

"Okay."

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Darren O'Leary was a totally unremarkable man of thirty-five years. Medium height, medium weight, mousy brown hair, watery brown eyes, and a three-day stubble of dark hair covering a fleeting chin.

"So you're working for the police?", he asked as he let them into the apartment he and Berger had shared.

"I'm the head psychic of the Santa Barbara Police Department, and this is my assistant Gus. We wanted to talk to you about Richard Berger's murder."

O'Leary seemed confused. "A psychic? But…I mean, I already told the police everything I know."

"We are aware of that, Darren. But I'm sure you understand that in a case such as this we need to cover all our bases to avoid procedural repercussions which, as I'm convinced you're aware of, always, and I mean _always_, lead to serious legal interconnections and juxtapositions and in these cases we all know who the fall guy will be."

O'Leary nodded numbly, clearly lost at the stream of senseless information coming out of Shawn's mouth. "Erm…sure. I mean, if there is anything I can do to help. But I already told the police everything I know, so maybe you should ask them."

Shawn shook his head and raised his hand. "No, Darren, we are aware of your statement. Now, I as a psychic take a different approach. Sometimes, getting in touch with the spirits opens up a whole new scope of possibilities. Do you think it might be possible for me to see Mr. Berger's room?"

O'Leary frowned, but with a short nod of his head he led them down the narrow corridor and opened one of the bedroom doors.

"This is…this was Richard's room. The police have been through it already, though."

"We're not searching for physical clues. We're hoping to get into contact with the spiritual plane. Would you mind?"

O'Leary shook his head again. "No, of course not. Just take your time."

He left the room and closed the door behind himself. Shawn and Gus stood there and looked around the room. It was obvious that the police had already searched the room. The mattress on the narrow bed was upturned, pillowcases had been opened, the wardrobe stood open and the clothes inside had been searched as well.

"So, what are we looking for?", Gus asked.

"Anything the police might have overlooked. Anything telling us what else besides working and living here Berger was up to. All extracurricular activities, if that is more in your terminology. I didn't get the feeling that O'Leary is all that keen on talking to us, so either we need to find something gives us some answers without involving O'Leary, or we need to find something which will get O'Leary to answer us."

Gus rolled his eyes, but Shawn was already rifling through the drawers of the small, rickety desk that was standing underneath the window. But as he had guessed, all documents that might have been of interest – bank statements, correspondence – were not to be found and had surely been taken by the police.

With a sigh, Shawn rose and took another look around the room. There had to be something here, there always was something. And mostly, the police overlooked something, as well. He let his eyes stray around the room. There was a bedside table with a lamp and an alarm clock on it. Gus was rifling through the drawer, but Shawn doubted that something of interest was in there. Besides the desk there was only the wardrobe and a chair in the room. A small wall shelf had held a couple of books and a road atlas of southern California which had been searched and stacked on the floor besides a hi-fi unit by the police. Shawn picked up the road atlas and started flipping through the pages.

As he opened up the pages containing the detailed street maps of Santa Barbara, he hit the jackpot.

"All right Gus, we can go."

"You found something?"

"No, I'm bored, let's go home. Yes, of course I found something. Let's put everything back the way it was and get out of here."

"All right."

O'Leary was waiting for them in the living room. He got up from the sofa as he heard them come out of Berger's room and looked at them expectantly, scepticism visible on his face.

"And, did you find something? Or whatever you psychics call that?"

Shawn raised a hand to his temple. "I got some strong feelings in Richard's room, feelings of…estrangement. Richard was a stranger, a stranger to this place, he didn't come from California, did he?"

"No, as far as I know he was from…"

"Idaho, I know. The spirits told me."

O'Leary still looked sceptical, but didn't object. "What's that got to do with anything?"

"Maybe nothing, maybe everything. The spirits are not always clear on their message immediately, I need to meditate on the impressions I gathered before I can say what it means. In the name of the SBPD we thank you for your time, Darren."

There was a frown etched onto O'Leary's face, but it was obvious that while he didn't seem to believe in psychic powers, he didn't say anything else but merely closed the door behind them.

By the time Shawn and Gus had reached the car, Shawn's grin was so wide that Gus feared his head might fall off any second now.

"All right, I take the bait. What did you find? And why didn't we need to talk to O'Leary if that was our sole reason for coming here?"

"Whatever O'Leary knows, he won't tell us. Not now. Berger was involved in something, maybe O'Leary was, too, but at least he knew something was up."

"How do you figure that?"

"You've seen the apartment, haven't you? Not exactly a high-price object. Neither is the furniture. But there was an expensive hi-fi in Berger's room, and the TV in the living room also didn't look too cheap to me. Judged by the clothes in Berger's wardroom and by the furniture and the kitchen appliances, they're not exactly making a fortune at the marina. So somehow they got some additional money to pay for a few technical extravagances in their lives."

"All right, I admit that it's strange, but there might be another explanation for it. Maybe they were presents, maybe they saved the money for the TV."

"Maybe, but of course that was not all my keen eye caught in Berger's room.

"And what else would that be?", Gus asked, voice sceptical.

"Roadmaps."

"Roadmaps?"

"Yes Gus, roadmaps. Berger had a road atlas of Southern California, which isn't all that surprising if he was originally from Idaho."

"And, just for the record, how did you know that?"

"There were a couple of phone numbers pinned to the board above his desk. 208 area code, which is the area code for all of the beautiful state of Idaho. Probably friends and family. Now that really wasn't difficult to figure out. It was the roadmaps that were interesting. Tell me, why would somebody who lives in Santa Barbara need detailed street maps of the city?"

Gus frowned. "For finding his way around?"

That statement earned him an eye roll. "Sure. But remember we're talking about somebody who doesn't own a car, and whose roommate is driving them to and from work each day. There is a supermarket at the corner, a drugstore across the street, a liquor store one block away from his apartment. The nearest shopping mall is just two bus-stops away, and a video rental store is also within walking distance. Now tell me, Gus, why would somebody like that, who doesn't even own a car, use the detailed maps of the city in his road atlas?"

"And how do you know that he's been using it?"

"He's had addresses circled all over the eastern of the city, and all were secluded places with no bus-stops or train stations anywhere close. Conclusion: he owned a car, or he occasionally drove a car which might not have been his."

Gus considered the facts for a moment, then he nodded. "If those markings were made by him, it makes sense. But I don't see how that does get us in on the case."

Shawn grinned. "Oh, but that was not all our dearly departed Mr. Berger wrote down in this very special road atlas."

"No?"

"No. There were notes in the margin. Abbreviations, or initials, as well as dates. Sometimes he used a different pen, so I think those were meeting places. Berger didn't know the city inside out, he had only been living here for what, a year? So he needed to mark those meeting places on the map as he was told them, and while he was at it, he wrote down the other information. When to meet whom. Or so I think, we still need to verify that."

"And why did the police not find this?"

Shawn shrugged. "I guess at first glance a used roadmap doesn't look all that interesting. You have to admit it doesn't look much like a clue at first glance. But sooner or later Lassie and Jules are going to find it, so let's make sure we're the ones to tip them off. Besides, there was one very last interesting thing written into the margin of the road atlas."

"And what was that?"

Shawn smiled. "A phone number."

Gus mirrored the smile. "A phone number. So if you're right about the road atlas, I'd say we're in on the case."

"If I'm right? Gus, that hurt. Of course I'm right. But if you doubt me, just keep in mind that the pen is mightier than the word."

"Sword."

"Pardon me?"

"It's sword. The pen is mightier than the _sword_. But either way I don't understand what you're getting at."

"All right, then we'll leave all allegories and metaphors aside for now, even though it causes me near physical pain. What I mean is that the notes were in Berger's handwriting, so it's him who used the maps and not somebody else."

Gus turned on the engine. "So we're going to the police station?"

Shawn checked his watch and shook his head. "No, not yet. O'Hara, Lassiter and the Chief are probably on their lunch break, provided Lassiter found a way to reverse reversed gravity. I'd say we give them an hour, and in the meantime we take a look at one or two of the places Berger marked on his map, just to make sure they could really be the places of conspicuous meetings. And then we go to the police. That also gives me some time to think about whom or what to channel for my vision."

Gus nodded. "All right, sounds like a plan to me. What's the first address?"

Shawn grinned. "Now that's the spirit. Put our faithful horse into gear and…"

"Shawn!"

"Sorry. Take the Main and drive East."

Gus put the car into gear and drove onto the road. "See? It's not difficult."

"No, but it's also not fun."

"You'll have your fun later, when you get your vision in front of Lassiter, Juliet and the Chief."

Shawn cocked his head to the side. "Then there's that, of course."


	3. Italian? I'll take the spaghetti

**Chapter 2 – Italian? I'll take the spaghetti…**

"I see…a car. A car driving down a street. It's dark, and the driver is looking at something. A book. No, not a book, there aren't words, there's a map. A roadmap. He doesn't know his way around, and it's dark. I'm getting…wait, that's strange. I'm getting fast food. Whopper…no. Chicken sandwich…no, no. Hamburger…Burger. That's it. Burger…"

"Richard Berger, the victim," Juliet threw in excitedly.

Shawn put both palms against his temples and squeezed his eyes shut. "Berger, yes. His name is Berger.

Gus stood to the side as Shawn did his little show in Chief Vick's office, in front of Vick's, O'Hara's and Lassiter's eyes. Shawn was putting up a good show, and Gus knew that it was because he was in extremely good spirits. Earlier, the had driven to three of the addresses Shawn had found circled in Berger's maps. While none of them had held any clues as to what exactly Berger had been doing there, all three had been secluded, remote places in industrial areas, away from prying eyes. The perfect places for inconspicuous meetings of any kind. It had been enough to convince Shawn that this was the right time to have his vision, providing the police with the information they needed to further their investigation. Shawn was especially keen on knowing whose phone number had been written down in the margin of the map, but he was saving that for the grand finale of his performance.

"He's still driving, where are you going, Berger, where does he take you, the caller, where does he take you?"

Eyes nearly closed, Shawn stumbled through the office, bumped non-too-gently into Lassiter and nearly fell out the door. Outside in the bullpen, he tumbled towards the wall with the big map of the city, Gus and the three officers following suit. Other policemen were interrupting their work to see what was going on. Everybody here knew Shawn, and his performances were always interesting to watch.

Twitching and still asking the visionary Berger where he was going, Shawn stopped in front of the map, grabbed one of the pins which the officers used to mark crime-scenes and stuck it into one of the places he had found circled on Berger's map.

"There! What is there, Berger? He took you there, didn't he? Called you there…wait, there's more…"

With jerky movements he repeated the process of sticking the little pins into the map until all the spots from the map in Berger's room were marked.

"What happened there? Who took you there, Berger? What, speak slower, I can't hear you, I can't…Aaaahhhh!"

Eyes wide open, Shawn reached for the closest pen and started scrawling the notes he had seen on the margin of the map earlier onto the folder of the unlucky file that was lying on the desktop.

"That's the Davidson file…", Lassiter began, but Chief Vick quickly shushed him.

"There's more…still more…there's a number. Numbers. I see numbers", Shawn continued, his performance leaving him a little breathless. With a hand so cramped that Gus was wondering how he could still be writing, Shawn scrawled the phone number he had found at the bottom of the page, then he let the pen drop out of his hand, fell into a chair and sunk in on himself, breathing as if he had just run around the block.

Gus, in the role of the psychic assistant, went over to him and put a hand on his shoulder, but the squeeze he gave was not one of giving strength to an exhausted medium, but one of congratulating your fake psychic friend on a job well done.

"That's a whole load of crap", Lassiter grumbled as he lifted up the folder Shawn had scribbled on and swiped a hand at it as if he could erase Shawn's handwriting by that. Chief Vick shot him a look, then she passed an evaluating glance over Shawn before turning to O'Hara with a sigh.

"Write down the addresses Mr. Spencer marked on the map, O'Hara. And then look them up and see if there is anything interesting for our case in those places. Lassiter, what are the notes Mr. Spencer wrote down?"

Lassiter sighed deeply. "A lot of scribbles. Numbers, are those dates, Spencer?"

He looked at Shawn who only shrugged innocently. "What numbers, Lassie? I don't remember any numbers."

Lassiter shot him a look, then looked at the file again. "Something that might be dates. Abbreviations, maybe initials. RD, whatever that's supposed to mean. And what looks like a cell phone number with a Santa Barbara prefix."

Vick nodded. "All right. You might as well run the phone number and see whom it's registered to. And check it against Berger's phone records, see if that number shows up there."

"Yes Chief."

As the two detectives moved off to their assigned tasks, Vick turned towards Shawn. "You might as well wait around for the results, Spencer. As it seems that you have a…connection to the case, you might as well work it. We could sure use some help at the rate this is going."

Shawn gave her a smile, turned on full wattage. "Thanks Chief. I'll just wait over by Detective Lassiter's desk and have a look at the case file. Maybe something sets the spirits in motion, the connection I had just now was pretty strong."  
Vick regarded Shawn for a moment, then she nodded. "Just the case file, Spencer. Keep in mind that it's not your desk."

"Oh, but of course."

Vick vanished back into her office to coordinate the further investigation while Shawn and Gus went over to Lassiter's desk.

"I'd say that went pretty well. Now we can officially and calmly read the case file, and when Lassiter has run the phone number he has to tell us whom it belongs to. I told you that would be our entry to the case."

"Yeah, now you can only hope that Lassiter doesn't catch you alone. I've seen him look at you earlier and my guess is, he doesn't believe in reversed gravity."

Shawn raised both eyebrows, thought for a moment, but then he shook his head. "Nah, even if he thinks that I am for some reason responsible for his little mishap in the records room, he wouldn't act upon that suspicion. Not during the day at least, or in the middle of the police department. Relax, Gus. How about we go grab a coffee before Lassiter comes back."

Gus declined, mainly because he knew that if he said yes, it would be his task to go and get the coffee. So instead he pulled up a chair and sat down next to Shawn. While his friend was busy scanning through the case file, more slowly than earlier that day, Gus leaned back and waited for what was to come next.

It was Juliet who returned a few minutes later with a list of the addresses Shawn had marked on the map. She had compiled a list of buildings and businesses for each address, but it was obvious that that information had not brought any more insights that would concern their case. None of the businesses or their owners seemed to have any connection to Berger, and the frustration was obvious on Juliet's face. No small wonder, seeing that she and Lassiter had worked the case for nearly a week now and the big break still wasn't in sight for her.

Little did she know that the big break was about to come, so she just like Shawn and Gus had to wait until Lassiter returned and shared his findings with them. It took another fifteen minutes, but then all three of them looked up as they saw Lassiter come storming down the corridor. He made a sharp hand-gesture at Juliet that said "Come along", then rapped on Chief Vick's door and went into her office.

Juliet quickly got up from her chair, and Shawn and Gus lost no time in following her. Once they all were in the Chief's office, Vick nodded at Lassiter to share what he had found. But Lassiter merely turned towards Shawn and raised an eyebrow.

"What is Spencer doing here, Chief?"

"He is here on my invitation, Detective. Seeing that it was his vision that provided us with information, he might as well be here to hear the results. Which, I might add, I also want to hear. O'Hara?"

Lassiter seemed a bit put off at the fact that the Chief wanted to hear Juliet's report first, especially since it was obvious that he was excited at what he had found. Fortunately for him, Juliet's report was short.

"We've traced the addresses Shawn marked on the map. It's six places in all, so far no connection between any of the addresses. They all lie in the East End, in uninhabited areas or industrial parks. I've traced the owners of the buildings at the given addresses, but right now nothing suggests any connection to Berger."

Vick nodded at Juliet's report, then turned towards Lassiter. "Detective?"

"The numbers Spencer gave us might be dates. If that is the case, we're talking about six different days, spread at not quite regular intervals over the past eight months. All the dates were Sundays, I've got McNabb running the dates through our computers right now, to see if we have any reports about unusual occurrences in the respective areas for the respective dates. We should have the results in about an hour, I also asked him to run the dates against our unsolved crime database. But the interesting thing is the phone number. The phone number Spencer wrote down wasn't on Berger's cell phone call list. He neither called nor received a call from that number. But I ran the phone records of the landline Berger shared with O'Leary against the number and got a hit. Not in the timeframe of the first three dates – if they are indeed dates – but I found three calls from the number Spencer gave us on Berger's and O'Leary's phone record. Now, Spencer gave us the numbers 3/11, 5/27 and 7/1. That makes it March 11th, May 27th and July 1st. Each a Sunday. Interestingly, the three calls from the number Spencer gave us came two days before each of the dates. March 9th, May 25th, June 29th."

"So they are connected", Juliet threw in. "And maybe there were calls before the other three dates, only the caller changed his number after the third call, and that's why Berger wrote it down." She frowned. "But if Berger was called by that person and didn't call them", she looked at Lassiter, who nodded in confirmation, "then why did he have to write the number down?"

"Maybe it was also a contact number. Berger was given the number to call in case he couldn't make the meeting", Vick mused.

Lassiter nodded. "That's what I thought, too. Or maybe he copied the number down from his caller ID. I currently have people running the phone records to see if there is another number in the phone records which corresponds to the other three dates we have."

Vick nodded. "Did you trace the number?"

Lassiter nodded again, more slowly this time, and there was something in his expression which Shawn didn't like.

"In a way."

"What do you mean, in a way?", Vick asked sharply.

Lassiter sighed. "It's a prepaid cell phone. We can't trace the number to a specific name or address. But when I entered the number into the computer, I got an internal hit."

Now Vick frowned in confusion. "The number was on file somewhere? Connected to another case?"

Lassiter nodded. "Yes. I had dispatch call out the officers working the case, they'll be here for a briefing as soon as their shift ends. Chief, the case that got the hit was Bertolucci case."

Vick's eyebrows went up. "The drug bust gone wrong?"

Lassiter nodded. "Exactly that case."

"What case is that?", Shawn interjected. Lassiter looked at him and, after a nod from Chief Vick, started to explain. "Giovanni Bertolucci was a small fish in one of the drug rings that operate in Santa Barbara. He wasn't very high up in the hierarchy, but we busted him for possession with intend to sell and he offered to become an informant to avoid going to prison. It worked for all of two weeks, and there wasn't much information he could give because he simply wasn't told what was going on higher up the food chain. But then one day he had information about a drug deal going down. He said it was one of the bigger deals, and finally he got some real hard information, so we set up a drug bust. But when the bust went down, all we found in the warehouse was Bertolucci, shot in the head. They had figured him out as an informant, had fed him false info to set us up, then they killed him. It was a message that do whatever we may, we just can't get to them."

"Where does the phone number come in?"

"It was one of the numbers Bertolucci called on the day he died. The detectives who worked the case couldn't tie the number to a specific person, either, but as it's an open secret who runs the drug smuggling Bertolucci was involved in, we now at least know where to look for our suspect in the Berger case. I'm going to run the drug angle on Berger ASAP, maybe we find something we previously missed."

Vick nodded at her head detective, and Lassiter and Juliet left her office to start their research. Shawn turned towards Vick.

"And who is the mystery man who openly yet secretly runs a drug ring in Santa Barbara?"

"Lorenzo Delgado. One of the biggest plagues for police forces in Southern California. Old school mobster, his family is from Chicago and came to California in the seventies. It only took him a few years to take over most of the organised crime here, though. Gambling, money laundering, prostitution, corruption, bribery, drugs, there's nothing Delgado isn't involved in. And if he's involved in Berger's murder, then this doesn't mean anything good for our investigation. Many have tried to put Delgado behind bars, but the old man isn't stupid. He knows how to keep his nose clean. But if we found proof against somebody higher in his organisation just for once, it would be a real success."

Shawn was thinking furiously. "Lorenzo Delgado. Hmm. Then the only things we can't make sense of yet are the letters I saw. RD. But if Berger was involved in something for the mob, it could mean practically anything. Run Drugs. Really-good Drugs. Rare Drugs."

Vick shook her head. "I have a strong suspicion what RD stands for. Lorenzo has a son. Not the brightest bulb in the lamp store, but the old man is letting him have his fair part in the family business. His father is a gangster, the son thinks he is a gangster. Those are the most dangerous. We've had him on some minor charges before, but Daddy's lawyers always got him out. His name is Ricardo, but everybody only refers to him as Ricky, sometimes Little Ricky."

"RD. Ricky Delgado", Gus said lowly, as if trying to figure out whether that fit. Shawn looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Gee, Sherlock. Just how did you make that connection?"  
"Shut up, Shawn."

Vick got up from her chair. "Gentlemen, thank you very much for your help. But if this really proves to be a lead on one of the Delgados, this needs to be done by the book. Besides, it's too dangerous to involve civilians in cases involving the Mafia. Please keep me informed if you have any more…premonitions, Mr. Spencer, but stay out of the investigation. I can't guarantee for your or Mr. Guster's safety on this one."

Shawn nodded. "Of course. We'll be leaving now, Chief. Just, please keep us updated if you have any results. Just out of personal curiosity."

Vick nodded hesitantly. "All right, Mr. Spencer."

Shawn and Gus walked out of the police station and towards Gus' car in silence. Once outside, Gus finally turned to his best friend.

"All right, what are you up to?"

Shawn feigned innocence. "I have no idea what you mean."

"Yes you have, Shawn. You gave in far too easily as Chief Vick said we were off the case again. Especially after you were so keen on getting on the case in the first place. So what are you planning to do?"

Shawn shrugged. "Well, Chief Vick is not the only one who knows plenty about organised crime here in Santa Barbara. And we need to wait for Lassiter and Jules to give us something else to work with. Investigating this Delgado character on our own without further information doesn't sound like the wisest step right now."

"So what's your plan? If you need me to drop you off somewhere tell me, because I need to do a round this afternoon. Two doctors from my weekly route have cancelled their appointments, and I need to go see them today."

Shawn nodded. "All right. Then just drop me off at m apartment, I need to get my bike."

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Half an hour later, Shawn pulled his bike into his father's driveway. Henry's truck was in the driveway, and he opened the door immediately upon Shawn's knock.

"Hello Shawn."  
"Hey Dad. You got a moment?"

"This about a case?"

Shawn rolled his eyes, but nodded. "Yes, it is. It's important, Dad."

Henry looked his son over once, thought for a moment, then nodded. "All right, come in."

Shawn followed his father into the kitchen and sat down at the table. Henry went over towards the counter, his back to Shawn, picking up a chopping knife to continue with the food preparation Shawn's arrival had obviously interrupted.

"You're staying for dinner?"

Shawn shrugged. "Sure, why not. Thanks."

"So, what's the case you want to ask me about?"

"Well, there's this murder they're stuck on. A marina worker was killed a couple of days ago."

"I read about that", Henry said. "They found him at the harbour, shot in the head."

Shawn nodded, though his Dad couldn't see. "That's the one. I spoke to his roommate and had a look around his room, and there were notes about what I think are meetings he went to. I don't know what kind of meetings, though. All places somewhere in the East End, warehouses and industrial parks, one meeting every couple of weeks for the past eight months. Now, amongst the notes there was also a phone number, and Lassiter could trace it back to another case on file. A drug bust that went wrong. And suddenly they all got extremely tight lipped, and Vick couldn't get me off the case quick enough."

Henry shrugged. "Organised crime is something different than what you've been involved in before. They got task-forces for that in the PD."

"I know, Dad. But let's face it, if I can help them to finally make a big bust, that would be a good thing, wouldn't it? Vick is after the big guy now, there might be a link from the crime to his son, and she hopes that this investigation will finally bring one of them down. I was wondering if you knew more about him."

Henry chuckled. "Shawn, it might sound surreal to you, but there is more than one group of organised crime in California, and most of them are also active here in Santa Barbara. The mob, the Russians, the Chinese, the Japanese, all kinds of homemade gangs. So who is the guy Karen is chasing now?"

Shawn shrugged. "Guy called Lorenzo Delgado."

The sound of the chopping knife dropping to the kitchen floor rang through the room like a gunshot. Shawn looked up at his father, but Henry still had his back to him. He was holding onto the counter tightly with both hands, breathing loudly.

"What?", he rasped out in a voice Shawn didn't recognise.

"Lorenzo Delgado. Do you know him?"

Slowly, Henry straightened up and turned to face his son. He was pale, and there was a look in his eyes which Shawn hadn't ever seen before. After a few moments of silently staring into his son's eyes, Henry came over towards the kitchen table.

"Shawn, I know you don't take my advice serious too often, but I want you to listen to me very carefully now. Lorenzo Delgado is bad news. Whatever the police are investigating about him, I want you to stay out of it. Delgado likes to think of himself of an old school gentleman gangster, but in fact he is a brutal bastard without a conscience and without a single moral fibre in his body. He'll kill without hesitation to get what he wants, and you don't want to cross him. Ever. There's a reason why he wasn't convicted of just one single crime over the past decades. Evidence vanished, witnesses changed their testimonies, and if they didn't, they vanished or turned up dead. Shawn, I'm serious about this. Let the police handle the case, and with an luck they will maybe find the piece of evidence that convicts Delgado this time. But I don't want your name to appear on his radar, Shawn. I don't want him to be even aware of your existence."

Shawn frowned at the intensity of his father's words. "Dad, what's going on?"

Henry shook his head. "Nothing. But promise me that you will stay out of this case."

"Dad, what's wrong?"

Henry reached for Shawn's shoulders with his hands. "Promise me that you will not go out and investigate Delgado. Promise me that you are going to stay away from that case. That you'll stay away from Lorenzo Delgado."  
"I…"

"Promise me, Shawn!"

"Dad, you're hurting me."

Abruptly, Henry let go off his vice-like grip on his son's shoulders and stared at his hands with something akin to shock on his face. He sank down in a chair and seemed to crumble in on himself.

"I'm sorry, Shawn. But I need you to promise me that you will stay out of this."

Still frowning, Shawn nodded. "All right. I promise."

Henry nodded, eyes fixed on the tabletop. "Thank you." He sat like that for a moment, then he got up from the chair again and returned to the counter. He picked up the knife he had dropped and cleaned it in the sink.

"Dinner will take another twenty minutes. Why don't you go ahead and set the table while I finish chopping things up."  
Shawn, still totally stunned by what he had just witnessed, merely nodded and got up to start pulling plates and cutlery out of the cupboards.


	4. Promises are more like guidelines anyway

**Chapter 3 – Promises are more like guidelines, anyway**

The next morning found Shawn sitting at his small kitchen table at half past eight, staring down into his cup of coffee as if it held the answers to all the questions in the universe. Over the years Shawn had learned that combining his natural hyperactivity with additional caffeine wasn't always a good idea, but this morning he needed it. If only to have something to stare at while he brooded over the events of the previous evening.

The mob-connection had been the break he had hoped for in this case, something that got the investigation going again. But that was the least of his worries right now. Lassie and Juliet were handling this, and until he couldn't squeeze some more information out of them he'd have to wait.

No, what was really bothering him was how his Dad had behaved after Shawn had mentioned Lorenzo Delgado's name.

Actually, Shawn had even hoped that his father would recognise the name. Henry Spencer had been on the force for decades, so it was no surprise that he knew one of the big names in organised crime. But the degree of his father's reaction had shocked him.

Shawn knew all of Henry Spencer's thirty-nine different levels of anger, he knew exactly how they showed and differed in his expression, in what he said, and in the punishment Shawn could expect for his wrongdoings. Reading his father when he was angry was an art Shawn had perfected throughout a childhood full of general hyperactivity and stupid ideas.

But yesterday evening, that hadn't been anger. Probably that was what disturbed Shawn most. The reaction Henry had shown after Shawn had mentioned Delgado's name was unlike anything he had ever seen in his father. The reaction had been intense, but not so much angry but…not afraid, either. Not really. Shawn didn't quite know what his father looked and acted like when he was afraid, but he was sure that hadn't been it. Not angry, and neither afraid. Haunted, that was it. Henry had seemed haunted. Shocked, at first, then haunted and then, after Shawn had made his promise not to investigate Delgado, it was as if he had forcefully pushed all that had happened over the previous minutes away to pretend that nothing at all had happened.

It had been highly disconcerting, to say the least. During dinner, Shawn had tried to pry some more information about Delgado out of his father, but all Henry had said had been a grumbling "you promised, Shawn", and that had been it. Instead, Henry had talked about this and that in such a forced cheerfulness that it had been downright scary to watch.

Shawn had excused himself quickly after dinner, had taken his bike home, and had spent half the night brooding. He hadn't slept much, which was also the reason why he was awake at such an unholy hour.

With a deep sigh, Shawn drained his coffee, put the cup in the sink, and decided to take a shower and get dressed. There were still a couple of things he had to do today.

He shed his shirt and crossed the bathroom to turn on the shower. On his way, he caught a glimpse of himself in the bathroom mirror and stopped short. For a moment, he simply stared at himself in the mirror above the sink, right hand coming up to trace the slight bruising on his left shoulder. He didn't remember hurting his shoulder the previous day, and for a moment he wracked his brain as to where that bruise could come from. Only as he turned slightly and saw a matching bruise on the back of his left shoulder, he realised what he was looking at.

The fingers of his father's right hand had made that bruise, yesterday evening, when he had gripped Shawn's shoulders. It had hurt, true enough, but after Henry had released his hold on him, Shawn had been so busy with trying to analyse his strange behaviour that he had not really thought about it anymore.

For a moment, Shawn kept staring at the bruise – it was only a light bruise, but it was definitely there – then he shook his head, shed his shorts and got under the shower.

As the hot water ran through his hair and down his body, Shawn tried to understand why such a small bruise would freak him out so much. He had had bruises before, plenty of them, and nearly all of them had been worse and more painful than this one.

But none of them had been left by his father.

Henry Spencer wasn't a very physical person in general. He hadn't been the Dad for extensive hugs and cuddles. He had always let Shawn know that he cared in his own way, which had been a code difficult to decipher at times, but hugs and cuddles hadn't been on any daily agenda.

But he had never lain a hand on his son in anger, either. Which was a feat in itself, because Shawn knew for a fact that there had been a few moments in his life when his Dad had been sorely tempted to try and remedy things with a thorough spanking. Nevertheless, he had never hit Shawn, not once. The farthest he had gone had been leading a spying seven year old Shawn out of the large kitchen cupboard by his ear. That had been it.

But somehow, that bruise freaked him out. Not only had his Dad's strange shift in behaviour been totally unexpected, but the fact that his otherwise so unphysical Dad had gripped his shoulders hard enough to leave bruises was disconcerting. Something was going on with his father, and Shawn intended to find out what it was.

As Shawn stepped out of the shower, he began to formulate a plan of action. He had given his father his word that he wouldn't actively investigate Delgado. Promises to his Dad were always problematic, because normally they were fool proof. Shawn didn't really want to break the promise, but he intended to interpret it a little more freely in order to go through with the plan forming in his mind.

He would stay out of the active investigation of the Berger murder – for now. Depending on what Jules and Lassie found out, he could make no guarantees, but for now he'd keep his promise. But surely, it would not hurt anybody if he stuck to his initial plan and tried to find out more about Delgado in general. Surely he could do that without anybody, especially his father, getting to know about it. It shouldn't be too hard, because the things Shawn intended to research first were things that were not exactly recent.

He'd find out what had spooked his father so badly, and he'd find out as soon as possible.

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Shawn was at the Psych office at quarter past nine, and by the time Gus showed up at a few minutes to ten, he was already deeply engrossed in an internet research. In fact, he didn't even hear his friend come into the office, and neither did he notice that Gus was staring at him for a full minute before entering the room fully and stepping behind his desk.

"Good morning, Shawn", Gus said somewhat hesitantly.

Shawn looked up from his laptop, then checked his watch as if he couldn't believe how much time had already passed since his arrival.

"'Morning, Gus."

"You're in early, did anything happen?"

Shawn very nearly waved him off, but then decided against it. "Yes. Well, no. Nothing happened per se, but something strange is going on, and I need to find out what it is."

Both Gus' eyebrows rose simultaneously. "But you did hear Chief Vick when she said we were off the case, didn't you?"

Shawn nodded. "Yes, sure. It's not that. Not directly. Not yet."

"Shawn, you're not making really much sense. Not that this is a totally new development, mind you, but in this case I'd really like to know what's going on."

Shawn finished his second cup of coffee, the last for today, he vowed, and leaned back in his chair. And then he told Gus in detail what had happened at his father's house the previous evening. When he had finished, Gus thought for a moment.

"But I mean your Dad was a cop for ages. It's only logical that he should know Delgado. Maybe he's even been involved in cases that involved him."

Shawn shook his head. "You didn't see how he reacted, Gus. There's something more to the story, I've never seen him act like this before. That was way beyond his normal level of paranoia, and saying this about somebody who locks up his house even when he's home says something."

"Yes, and from what you said he also made you promise not to investigate this case. Do I need to remind you what happened the last time you broke a promise you gave him?"

Shawn slowly shook his head, but his mind was on something else entirely. "No, you don't. But right now, I am leaving the Berger investigation to Jules and Lassie. We pushed them in the right direction, that should have been enough for the moment. But there is something else about this guy, and if it's bad enough to spook my Dad, do you really think I'll just sit by and do nothing?"

"Well, he got spooked in the first place exactly because you couldn't sit by and do nothing. If you hadn't gotten involved, it would have been nothing to him but another story in the paper."

"I don't intend to break the promise I gave him. But it can't hurt to take a look at Delgado's history in Santa Barbara. That's all I'm saying."

Gus mulled this thought over, but while it was obvious that he still didn't consider it a good idea, he also didn't say anything else to stop his friend. Instead, he settled down in his chair and booted up his laptop.

"So what are you doing now?"

"Going through old newspapers. Vick said yesterday that Delgado came to California in the seventies. I've been checking the archives of the _News Press_ and the _Independent_ since he first appeared here."

"Anything interesting?", Gus said, his curiosity peaked.

Shawn shook his head. "No. He's mentioned a few times, but there's nothing big. Dad and Vick were right, that guy knows how to keep his own nose clean. I've come up until 1983."

Gus nodded. "All right. How about I take the _News Press_, you take the _Independent_. We should be faster that way."

"All right."

Both set to work, and for the next half hour the only sound in the room was the sounds of keys being hit and mouse buttons being clicked. The farther he progressed in time, the longer the search through the archives took. Delgado was mentioned more often, one time he had even been arrested and processed by the District Attorney on the charge of laundering money, but the day of Delgado's bail hearing the only witness against him suddenly disappeared. The man was never found again, and without the witness' statement against him there was nothing the DA could hold Delgado for and he was set free.

That was what his father and Chief Vick had been talking about. Shawn had no doubt whatsoever that if the victim had truly intended to make a statement against a mafia-boss, Delgado had lost no time in having him disposed of. Not a nice thought, and inwardly Shawn agreed with his Dad. He didn't particularly want to show up on that man's radar.

Another ten minutes later, Shawn suddenly found what he had been searching for.

"Gus, I think I got something. Come here."

Gus rolled his desk chair across the room and up next to Shawn's. "What is it?"

"Here. I don't remember this, but it looks as if back then it was big news." Shawn quickly connected the printer, clicked a few buttons and printed two copies of the article he had found. Handing one to Gus, he took the other for himself and began to read.

_**Santa Barbara Police Department Under Suspicion**_

_After the rapid increase of organised crime in the Santa Barbara County over the past months, recent rumours have it that the police are now searching for informants and people on the pay-roll of orga__nised crime bosses within their own ranks._

_For the past months, the SBPD have focussed a lot of time and effort in trying to provide proof that Lorenzo Delgado (42), local businessman, is the head of a crime syndicate that has been spinning its web tighter and tighter around the city of Santa Barbara. The police connect the rapid rise of organised crime such as illegal gambling, bookkeeping, drug trafficking and prostitution over the past months directly to Delgado's activities, yet so far have failed to provide a single piece of evidence._

_Delgado himself claimed in an interview with a local news station to be "nothing more than a mere businessman, who came to California trying to make money and find new markets and niches for business." Delgado, known to most inhabitants of Santa Barbara as entrepreneur and main importer of Italian food delicacies to California, claims to want to help the police in their investigations with whatever means available to him, and even offered the SBPD a thorough search of all his warehouses, businesses and offices, including total access to all his business documentation, with the aim of "relinquishing that ridiculous thought of me being a mafia-boss", as Delgado claims._

_True enough, extensive police searches of his private and business estates at the beginning of this week again turned up no piece of evidence tying Delgado to organised crime in any way._

_Much more worrisome seems the development that all the effort the SBPD put into the pursue of organised crime in our town, vital and highly sensitive information from an inside source seems to have trickled through to the culprits for months already._

_There have been reports in the past about police officers turning a blind eye to gambling shops and illegal bookkeepers, accusations of bribery have been brought forth against patrol officers, but now an informant tells the _Independent_ that the SBPD is starting to suspect some of their own of passing vital information on to the leaders of crime rings here in Santa Barbara._

_As this paper has been told, Internal Affairs has been informed of the situation and is beginning their investigation which will not be limited to those officers investigating organised crime._

_We can only hope that should there be any truth to those rumours, the officers in question will be found out quickly. Organised crime rings operating in Santa Barbara is a disconcerting thought in itself, the idea that police officers are involved in it and in fact even profit from it, is not tolerable._

By the time Gus had finished reading the article, Shawn was already clicking the links leading to the follow-up articles, scanning the further developments.

"Anything on what came out of it?"

Shawn clicked through some more pages, eyes roaming across the monitor, then he leaned back and shook his head.

"Not really. Internal Affairs investigated practically everybody in the SBPD. And from what was released to the press, they did have a number of officers under suspicion of being on somebody else's payroll, but they never found proof. At least I found nothing about anybody being charged, so my guess is that they never found out truly was working for Delgado, if anybody in the department was.

But judging by what I've seen, working at the PD back then can't have been fun, not with all the suspicion floating around."

"Is it that unusual for the mob to be paying police officers off?"

Shawn shrugged. "To be honest, I don't know. My guess is it happens all the time, but on such a large scale? I don't know." Shawn clicked some more. "Seems like Internal Affairs officially closed the investigation in October without results, eight months after it was opened."

"What year?", Gus asked, not finding the date on his printout.

"1987. And ever since, Delgado seems to have settled firmly in Santa Barbara. Everybody knows he's a mob boss, but nobody could ever prove him anything. He's rich enough to pay others to do the dirty jobs, and he's clever enough to make sure that nobody on his pay-roll will ever talk. I don't really know if any of that will change in this case. Somebody who's been a mob-boss for more than twenty years doesn't just start slipping up."

"Shawn, no matter what, don't even start thinking about tripping him up. It's the mafia, we don't want to get involved in that. Internet researches is about as far as I am willing to go on this one."

Shawn grinned at his friend. "What a pity."

"Oh no." Gus shook his head. "I know that grin, and I know I don't want to see that grin on your face right now. That grin doesn't mean anything good and I'm only telling you this once: the last time you broke a promise to your father, he yelled himself hoarse and you bunked on our sofa for three nights. I'm not gong to risk that happening again."

Shawn distractedly waved his friend off. He had leaned back in his chair, hands folded on his stomach, staring against the far-off wall. "I need to see those files."

Gus shook his head. "What files?"

"Gus, come on. Haven't you been paying attention over the past few minutes? The files from Internal Affairs. I'm curious to know whom they had under suspicion. And maybe that way we could find out more about Delgado."

"What, you want to interview ex-cops and ask them whether they were being paid off by the mob twenty years ago? If that is your plan, think again."

Shawn rolled his eyes. "No, I didn't say that. I'll just go and see whether I can't get a look on those files."

Shawn got up from his chair and grabbed his jacket. Gus stood to block his path, still not entirely convinced.

"And how are you planning to do that? Files are kept in the Records Room. And last time I checked, you didn't have a key. Which is why you needed a broom to lock Lassiter in there."

Shawn shook his head with a dramatic eye-roll. "Reversed gravity, Gus. Remember? There were no brooms involved. As for the how to get in, I already have an idea. But it might be better if I went alone. I need to find a moment when neither Vick nor Lassiter are around, and I need to catch Officer Allen on her own. That might take some time."

"And what shall I do in the meantime?"

Shawn very nearly laughed out loud. "Gus, isn't it you who always complains that I'm keeping you from your real work? But if you want to, see if you can find out any more about Delgado, especially stuff in connection to the SBPD, or things about the times when the police nearly got him. Might be interesting to know how Delgado got himself out of prison time and again. Or you could play Space Invaders online. Your choice."

And before Gus had the chance to answer, Shawn was out of the office. A moment later Gus heard the kick-start of his motorcycle as Shawn roared off towards the police station.

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It just wasn't his lucky day. When Shawn arrived at the police department, he just caught a glimpse of Lassiter and O'Hara returning from an early lunch break. So Shawn waited for a few minutes, then he entered the building, only to be told that Officer Allen had the day off. On any other day, Shawn might have tried his luck with getting into the records room with whoever was on front-desk duty, but since he was officially not working this case and had absolutely no reason to be in the police department, he didn't want to risk it. Knowing his luck, the moment he tried to talk his way into the records room, Vick or Lassiter would appear by his elbow.

Allen would be back tomorrow, he'd simply have to try his luck then. But he also didn't want to return to the office immediately. No, maybe he'd just take a small tour on the bike and let his thoughts wander, see where that took him. On the off chance that a great idea of how to proceed in this case which wasn't even really a case would present itself, Shawn donned his helmet and started the bike.

He rode aimlessly for a few minutes, and before he knew what was happening he had left the city and was driving around aimlessly.

He didn't really pay attention to his surroundings any more than necessary to drive his bike safely. His thoughts were on Delgado and how he had managed to escape arrest for so long. He was really curious as to what the Internal Affairs investigation twenty years ago had been about, and especially why the investigation had been closed without any result as to who in the Department had been working for Delgado. And, more importantly, if Delgado had paid off cops in the SBPD, who said that he didn't have people on his pay-roll right now, as well.

It was probably because his thoughts were so focussed on all this why he didn't noticed the van. It had been behind him ever since he had left Santa Barbara. Now that they were well out of town on a lonely side road, the van accelerated and overtook Shawn. Before the fake psychic even had a chance to realise that something different than a normal traffic manoeuvre was taking place, the driver of the van stepped on the brake and turned the car sideways. Shawn instinctively hit the brakes full force and the bike began to swerve slightly. Seeing that he was still headed for a head on collision, Shawn without thinking turned the handles of his bike to the right, and the next thing he knew was that he drove off the road, the bike slid away on the rough underground and Shawn tumbled to the ground.

Hitting the brake before his evasive manoeuvre had fortunately taken most of the speed out of the crash, but still Shawn took a moment of lying still on the ground, taking stock of his body parts. All seemed to be there, and all parts seemed to be in working order. Good. And now he'd give the driver of that van a piece of his mind.

But just as he scrambled up from the ground and began brushing the grass off his jeans, suddenly there were hands on his arms pulling him roughly towards the van.

"Hey, wait a second, what's…"

A hand shot up, opened the visor of his helmet and pressed a piece of wadded fabric against nose and mouth. Shawn struggled against his assailants, but his hands were held tightly, there were at least two of them holding him, and finally he had to draw breath. The sharp chemical smell immediately filled his nose, and the last thing Shawn noticed was how his body went slack before everything turned dark.

He was already unconscious by the time the two men pulled off his helmet, tossed it to the side of the road, then pushed him into the back of the van and drove off.


	5. The name is Spencer, nice to meet you

**Chapter 4 – The name is Spencer, nice to meet you**

Henry Spencer was sitting on his porch, feet propped up, a cup of coffee next to him, staring off into the direction of the sea. He hadn't slept well last night, and at four in the morning had decided that instead of tossing and turning, he could as well give the day an early start and take his boat out.

Never before in his life had fishing failed to calm him, but today it had happened. He had spent the morning on his boat, mulling the same thoughts over and over again in his head, his mind on anything but the fishing. He hadn't caught anything, either, no big surprise there, so as noon approached he had turned the boat around and taken it home.

Henry turned his eyes from the ocean and for some long minutes stared at the nondescript brown cardboard box standing on the table beside him. After all those years he still had known where exactly it was, though he had taken great care to hide it in a place where Shawn would never stumble across it accidentally. But to Henry it had seemed like only yesterday that he had placed the box on one of the support beams in the outermost corner of the attic. It was dusty, but that was all that had changed about it.

So far, Henry had not dared to open the box. It was completely stupid, the rational part of his brain knew that it was only a box, nothing more. It was just a stupid cardboard box, and there was nothing in it that Henry had not seen before.

For a moment he wondered why he had even kept it, when it was now burning a hole in his side as he stared back out at the ocean. But the answer to that was surprisingly simple – because no matter what he did with the box, he would still know. He would still know what was in it, and he would still know what had happened back then. Whether or not he destroyed the physical evidence, that wouldn't ever undo the mistakes he had made.

For roughly two decades he had been living with what he had done, and while it hadn't been on the forefront of his mind for the most part of that time, he had still always known. It had been one of the lessons he had tried to teach Shawn from an early age on – no matter how deep you buried your mistakes, in the end they always come back to haunt you again. One day, when you least expect them to, they suddenly rear their ugly head again. But it was so easy to believe that it wasn't so. It was so easy to believe that all that lay in the past and would never surface again. So easy that even the otherwise ever so realistic Henry had believed he'd never have to confront the contents of that box again. But he had been wrong.

His son's words from the previous evening had been like a knife to the gut. Henry knew that Shawn had seen his surprise, knew that his guard had been down long enough for his son to see that something was wrong. But Shawn had promised him not to involve himself. Shawn might be flimsy and unpredictable, but he normally took his promises seriously. Henry could only hope that he would this time. He could only hope that his son's promise was enough to keep Henry's past mistakes from coming back to haunt them both. But Henry wouldn't allow that. He wouldn't let Shawn become part of it, Shawn could never know what had happened twenty years ago. Because then he'd want to get to the bottom of it, and if there was one thing Henry would do, then it was keeping Shawn from opening that particular Pandora's Box. His mistakes would not be the reason that his son got hurt.

Inside the house, the phone started ringing. With a sigh, Henry picked up the box, unlocked the screen door and went inside.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

"Hi, this is Shawn. I can't answer the phone right now, probably I'm conversing with the spirits, or I'm taking a nap, and just maybe I'm busy saving mankind. In any case, leave me a message and I'll call you back."

"Shawn, it's Gus. Again. Call me back as soon as you hear this, all right? You've been gone for hours now."

With a sigh, Gus snapped his cell phone shut and threw it to the desk. He had waited for nearly two hours before calling Shawn. He didn't want to risk Shawn's cell phone going off while he was sneaking into the Records Room at the police station. Gus knew that Shawn always forgot to set his cell on vibrate. But two hours should have been plenty of time to figure out a way to get to those files, shouldn't it have been? But Shawn hadn't called, and neither had he stormed back into the office with new information and full of crazy ideas of how to use it.

Gus didn't know whether it was because this time the Mafia was involved, but he was starting to get worried. Not that Shawn was the most reliable person in the world, and on any other day a two-hour period of him going incommunicado wouldn't even have been worth mentioning. But Shawn had been so focussed on getting that information, and after what he had told about the previous evening he had wanted to find out about the Internal Affairs investigation so badly, surely he'd have come here and told Gus about any new development.

But what was Gus supposed to do? He guessed he could call the police station and ask if Shawn was around, but if he really was, then Gus' call could ruin his plans of getting into the Records Room. No, something just had to be taking longer than Shawn had anticipated, and he had simply forgotten to call Gus. It wouldn't be the first time that something like that happened.

But still, that line of mental reasoning didn't calm Gus. He was just about to pick up his phone again and call Shawn once more when it started ringing. Without bothering to check caller ID, Gus answered the call.

"Shawn, finally. What took you so long, I was starting to think that something…"

"Mr. Guster?" Karen Vick's voice interrupted him. Gus was startled, pulled the phone from his ear and checked the display, but it, too, said "Chief Vick". Gus brought the phone back to his ear.

"Sorry Chief, I thought it was Shawn. I'm waiting for him to call."

"I could tell that. In fact, that's why I'm calling."

Something tightened in Gus' stomach. So that's why Shawn hadn't called. Probably he had been caught trying to sneak into the Records Room, and first the Chief had chewed him out for it and now she was calling to chew out Gus, as well. Or she wanted him to post bail for Shawn. Would she go as far as arresting Shawn? Well, he had disobeyed a direct order, and surely breaking into a room in the police station counted as a crime.

"I'm afraid I don't understand, Chief", Gus said, figuring the best tactic was to feign ignorance. But the Chief only sighed.

"I had hoped that Mr. Spencer was with you, but that is obviously not the case."

Gus frowned. So Vick wasn't calling because Shawn had been caught?

"Erm, if you don't mind my asking, why are you looking for Shawn? He left the office two and a half hours ago, but I can pass on a message when he comes back."

"I'm afraid it's more complicated than that. A patrol car just found his motorbike on the outskirts of the city. It was lying in the ditch near the 154. His helmet was lying next to the bike, and there were skid marks on the road indicating that he had an accident."

Gus' stomach felt leaden. "What about Shawn?"

"He was nowhere to be found. There wasn't any blood on the scene, either, so it could very well be that he isn't hurt, but that he's nowhere to be found is strange. No accident was called in for that area, either."

Gus forced himself to swallow around the lump in his throat. "Did you check the hospitals?"

"Yes, we did, but no trace of him anywhere. His phone goes straight to voicemail, as well. Do you know where he wanted to go?"

"Actually, I think he wanted to go to the police station. But if his bike ended up on the 154, then he must have changed his plans. I really don't know, Chief. What…what's happening now? Are you searching for him?"

"Yes. All patrol cars have been informed to look out for him, and the hospitals have his description as well. If you hear from him, Mr. Guster, please let me know immediately."

"Of course, Chief. The same goes for me."

"Of course. There's one more thing, though."

"What is it?"

Chief Vick sighed. "Somebody needs to inform his father about all this."

Gus was sure he didn't want to hear Vick's next words. "Do you really think that's necessary? Maybe Shawn just ran out of gas and decided to walk back into the city."

"No, Mr. Guster. According to the patrol officers, the scene definitely looked like the scene of an accident. Aside from the tracks of Mr. Spencer's motorbike, there's also skid marks made by a car. There's no doubt that some sort of accident took place, and since nothing was reported this is treated as a hit-and-run, with a missing person who also happens to be a police consultant. And knowing Henry, I know that he would want to be informed. I was just wondering if it wasn't better if he got to hear it from you."

"From _me_? Chief, with all due respect, but I don't think that's a good idea."  
Vick sighed again. "Mr. Guster, if I call Henry and tell him that his son's bike was found at the scene of an accident, with his son missing, it will sound official, not to mention extremely serious. Henry is going to go ballistic. I think if you are the one to break the news to him, there's at least the chance that he'll not freak out immediately. It might also end better for Mr. Spencer, should he show up again as if nothing had happened."

There was some sense to this line of reasoning, though Gus didn't like to admit it. He simply didn't want to make that call, not at all.

"All right, I'll call him right now."

"Thank you, Mr. Guster."

"Thanks for calling Chief. Bye."  
"Goodbye."

As Vick hung up, Gus closed his cell phone and stared at it for a long moment. If he called Henry now and broke the news of Shawn's accident to him only to have Shawn walk into the office a few minutes later, unhurt and with a totally logic explanation for all this, he was going to kill him. With his bare hands if he had to, but he was going to kill him.

No use delaying it any further. Gus opened the cell phone again and dialled Henry Spencer's number. Shawn's father answered on the fourth ring.

"Hello?"

"Mr. Spencer? Gus here."

"Hello Gus. To what do I owe the honour?"

"Actually, I was wondering whether you have seen Shawn."

There was a brief pause and a small intake of breath.

"He was here yesterday evening. Wasn't he at the office today?"

"Yes, he was. He left a few hours ago."

Gus just didn't know how to say it. He knew it in his head, it was just that the words didn't want to come out.

"Chief Vick just called me, Mr. Spencer." He didn't even get the chance to say another word because Henry cut him off. There was something in his voice which made the knot in Gus' stomach tighten even more.

"What happened, Gus? Where is Shawn?"

"We don't know."

"What do you mean, you don't know? How can you not know? What did Karen call about?"

This was not going well, not at all. Gus already couldn't remember why he had agreed to being the one to make this call.

"Shawn left about two and a half hours ago. And Chief Vick just told me that a patrol car found Shawn's bike near the 154. It seems that Shawn had an accident, there are skid marks on the road from his bike and from a car. The problem is that Shawn is nowhere to be found."  
"Does he answer his cell phone?", Henry asked sharply.

"Mr. Spencer, there might be a harmless explanation for all this…"

"Does he answer his cell phone?", Henry repeated, in a voice which Gus knew all too well from his childhood – a voice which clearly said: answer or you're in real trouble.

"No, it goes straight to voicemail."

Henry was silent for a few seconds. "What was he doing going up there?"

"Nothing. I mean, he didn't say anything about going anywhere else but the city centre. I don't know how he ended up there. Chief Vick said that she has the patrol cars looking out for him, and she also checked the hospitals. So far, no trace of him."

"I'll be at the office in ten minutes."  
"Mr. Spencer, I really think…"

But Henry had already disconnected. Gus sank back into his chair with a sigh. This was not going well, not at all. For a moment he contemplated to lock up and leave before Henry arrived, but he discarded that thought quickly. That would only multiply the trouble, and somehow Gus doubted that he really wanted that.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Shawn woke up to the unpleasant sensation of somebody slapping his cheeks. With a groan, he tried to move his face away from the hand while at the same time he tried to open his eyes.

"About time", a gruff voice said. "Get up!"

Groggily, Shawn looked around and tried to piece together what had happened. He remembered being on his bike, and then there had been the van…right, somebody had pushed him off the road and then drugged him. Might explain his murder headache and the strange taste in his mouth.

Looking around, he didn't know where he was. It looked like some kind of warehouse, maybe an old industrial building, but there were no distinguishing marks that could give him any more information. He was also lying on the bare floor, and somebody was bent over him. Tall guy, dark hair, broad shoulders, flat nose, no visible neck, in one word – goon. Great.

Suppressing another groan, Shawn sat up and then slowly scrambled to his feet.

"Simply asking me out on a date might have been easier than this. I might just have said yes."

Goon-guy didn't even visibly move, but that must have been an optical illusion because his fist most definitely made contact with Shawn's solar plexus, doubling him over and driving the air from his lungs.

"Shut up, smartass. Now come along, you don't want to keep him waiting."

It was difficult to walk straight after that vicious blow, but goon-guy didn't appear to be really sympathetic to Shawn's troubles. He crossed the room they were in towards a door and opened it. It led to what must have been an office once, but now it was just another empty room. Well, empty except for the two chairs standing facing each other.

Goon-guy non too gently pushed Shawn into the room before him and closed the door behind them.

"Mr. Spencer. A pleasure to finally meet you. Please, sit down."

Slowly, Shawn approached the man who was seated on one of the two chairs. He knew immediately who it was he was facing right now, he had seen his picture in that newspaper article only a couple of hours ago. Lorenzo Delgado looked older than in the picture, but twenty years did that to you. However, he didn't look his age of 62 at all. He was tall and slender, immaculate in a dark blue suit and polished leather shoes. Not a hair on his only slightly greying head was out of place, and it didn't look as if it was thinning in any way, either. However, if there were any Italian roots in his blood like his name suggested, then they were hidden well. Delgado's hair was a dark shade of blond, his skin was pale, and the eyes which were directed unblinkingly into Shawn's face were bright green. However, there was not a trace of any feeling in them. They were cold, expressing nothing but a clinical interest, as if Delgado was watching an interesting specimen of a rare species.

The suit he wore was perfectly tailored, and it was obvious that Delgado wasn't carrying a weapon. Shawn didn't expect him to, that's what goon-guy was there for. And the irony was that goon-guy surely had all the documentation needed for a weapon, including the permit to carry concealed. Being a mob-boss for over twenty years without being convicted of anything meant that Delgado was careful about the details.

"It is highly impolite of you to remain standing."

Shawn shrugged cockily. "I have a medical condition. At night I have to hang upside down from the rafters, it cost a fortune to redecorate my apartment."

"Sit down, Mr. Spencer." Delgado wasn't loud, but his voice had turned to ice from one moment to the next. Shawn hesitated for a moment, but as goon-guy made a move towards him upon a subtle nod from Delgado, he slid into the uncomfortable folding chair that was facing the mob-boss. Sitting down was a relief on his aching solar plexus, but Shawn carefully kept his expression neutral.

Delgado looked at him with a slight smile. "So we finally meet. I have been curious about you, Mr. Spencer."

"Normally, people who are curious about me simply call my office."

There was movement to Shawn's side, but a nearly inconceivable shake of the head from Delgado stopped goon-guy before he got closer to Shawn.

"I have my own ways of handling things, Mr. Spencer. And unfortunately, a little bird told me that you were getting too interested in things that are none of your business."

"That little bird wouldn't happen to go by the name of Darren O'Leary?"

Delgado's face was unreadable. "That would be another thing you shouldn't concern yourself with."

But Shawn didn't understand this. Until yesterday, the police had not even known that there might be a connection between the Berger murder and Delgado. So how did the man know about it? And how did he know that Shawn was involved when he wasn't even really, officially involved? The only real investigating he had done had been searching Berger's room, which was why Shawn had the strong suspicion that O'Leary had told Delgado about Shawn's visit. But why? Was O'Leary involved in whatever it had been that had gotten Berger killed? The calls from the cell phone had been to the landline both men shared, not to Berger specifically. So maybe O'Leary had tipped Delgado off. Or he wasn't involved but still Delgado had sent somebody to question him, to see what direction the police investigation had been taking.

Or, Delgado truly had somebody inside the SBPD who had kept the mob-boss up to date about the investigation. It were too many possibilities to be entirely sure.

"But let's not get caught up with unpleasant things", Delgado interrupted Shawn's train of thought. "I have been curious to find out more about the psychic the SBPD employs so successfully."

"Well, now you have met me. Was that it?"

"Not quite. I am afraid that maybe we might have to get back to some more unpleasant topics after all. But first let me explain something to you. As I am sure you are aware of, Mr. Spencer, I am a successful businessman. And as such, you learn very quickly that to keep that success, you have to develop a very firm frame of rules and procedures. I have a very certain way of handling things, Mr. Spencer. For one thing, I don't like interferences. People who interfere in my business only cost me time, and a successful businessman doesn't have any time to lose. So I have developed a very special way of dealing with people who interfere. When the situation allows, I point out the unfortunate conflict of interest to the other party involved. Mostly, that is enough to show them the error of their ways. If not, sometimes the situation calls for another way to reach a mutual arrangement. Business is all about money and influence, both of which are things I have plenty of."

Shawn just looked at Delgado. "That is all really, _really_ interesting, but if you had taken time to find out a bit more about me, you'd know that business is not really the right topic to keep me interested. I'm more the kind of guy for the whole carpe diem thing, you know?"

Delgado's eyes never left Shawn's as a small, dangerous smile broke out on his face and he pulled a folded sheet of paper out of his inner pocket.

"Oh, but I have taken time to find out as much as I could about you." He unfolded the sheet. "Shawn Henry Spencer, born March 28th 1977 in Santa Barbara, CA, parents Henry L. Spencer and Margaret Douglas, married 1975, divorced 1992, list of both their current addresses, phone numbers, social security numbers, club memberships, car registrations, and so on, and so forth. But back to you, Mr. Spencer. I also have your social security number, your tax returns, your phone records, your bank and credit card statements, of course your address and all your phone numbers, business and private, your criminal record, your extensive medical records, and a detailed list of places in Santa Barbara which you like to frequent, including the most likely time of day and day of week that you're found there. I also have the very same lists for both your parents, your close friend Mr. Guster, both Mr. Guster's parents, and all that didn't take me more than two phone-calls and about fifteen minutes of time. If I want to, I can get much more detailed information about every single person in your life, even if it is merely the lady behind the counter who serves you your pineapple smoothie each morning."

Something tightened in Shawn's stomach, but he did his best to keep his face impassive. "Impressive, Mr. Delgado. I give you that. Would you now care to tell me why you went all those lengths?"

The eerie smile was back on Delgado's face. "Oh, but I already told you that, Mr. Spencer. It has come to my attention that you have recently picked up an interest in something that does not concern you."

"The murder of Richard Berger", Shawn said.

Delgado shrugged. "I don't think I need to point out any specifics for you. Fact is, I have been going through your record. Your solve-rate for the cases the Santa Barbara Police involved you in is impressive. However, I am afraid that this is going to end now."

"It is?", Shawn said, both eyebrows raised.

"Yes. This is what I was trying to tell you earlier, Mr. Spencer. Your involvement with the police presents a conflict of interest to me. I do not want you to stick your nose into their investigations and point them into the right direction."

"Ah, now I understand", Shawn said with a cocky grin. "This is the part where you ask me to stop working with the police. Well, Mr. Delgado, I am afraid you wasted your time. The spirits are very particular about what to do with the information they give me, it's not as if I had another choice."

Delgado drew a deep breath. "Well, unfortunately I will have to insist, out of concern for your safety. It might be best to stop before you're in over your head in things too difficult for you to handle. If it is a question of financing your little…detective agency further, I am sure we can come to an agreement."

At that, Shawn laughed out loud. "You want to buy me off? That has to be the most ridiculous thing I've heard in a long time."

"Ah, but I have learned over the years that it's all just a question of the right price. Everybody has theirs, and it's only a matter of figuring it out."

Shawn shook his head. "I'm afraid you have the wrong guy for this kind of conversation. Besides, I have been officially taken off the case, so I don't think you can just save your time and money. I think I'll just go now."

He made move to get up from his chair, but upon a subtle nod of Delgado's head a pair of paw-like hands landed on his shoulders and forcefully pushed him down.

"You will go when I say we're finished. And we aren't finished until I am assured that you will stay out of this investigation. Your track record doesn't exactly show that being officially excluded from an investigation stops you from sticking your nose in it."

"Well, offering to buy me off surely isn't going to help things, either, I can tell you that. Maybe it's time you learned that you cannot buy just everything. Not everybody has their price."

Delgado smiled coldly. "Your father certainly had his."

A wave of white hot rage surged through Shawn and he didn't even notice that he shook goon-guy's hands off and jumped off his chair. "Liar!"

"Antonio, if you could please take care that our guest doesn't make any more unexpected movements."

Shawn doubled over as yet another fist hit his unprotected stomach. For good measure, Antonio rammed his knee right into the place where his fist had connected, then he roughly pushed Shawn back into the chair and forced his head up by his hair. Delgado slowly got up from his chair, took all the time in the world to button up his suit jacket, then stepped over towards Shawn.

Panting, knees slightly drawn up against the pain and his head bent back to avoid his hair from getting ripped off his skull, Shawn glared at the man towering above him.

"You will listen to me now, Mr. Spencer, and listen carefully. In case a friendly conversation or the attempt at mutual financial agreement fail to achieve a situation I can live with, I have other means. Means which I don't particularly like to employ, but means which I won't hesitate to employ. You have a choice to make now. Either you stay out of this case, or you will regret it. If you don't want the whole of Santa Barbara to know that decorated Police Officer Henry Spencer was nothing more than yet another crooked cop, you will stay out of this case."

"My father was no crooked cop, Delgado. If you say otherwise, everyone who knows him will laugh in your face."

Delgado's grin turned feral. "Which is why I always take great care to keep proof of other people's involvement in dubious activities, just in case I need it. So if you don't want your fathers reputation and life's work go down the public drain, you will just keep out of this case. It's a simple enough agreement."

"I don't believe a word you're saying", Shawn spat out.

Delgado shrugged. "I don't particularly care whether you believe me or not. I know that the proof I can make public will be believed. And maybe you should just take some time to think about it. Make some memory exercises back into the year of 1987. Or you just ask your father about a certain Internal Affairs investigation, I'm sure he has some interesting things to tell you about that. That is, if he has the guts to stand up to his mistakes in front of his son. But in any case, let me make this perfectly clear, you are off this case now. I have eyes and ears everywhere in this city, and if I see or hear about you even entering the SBPD again, I will take the appropriate steps. There will be no warning, no more pleasant chats. So think very well about what you do, Mr. Spencer."

Delgado straightened up and turned towards goon-guy. "Antonio, get the car. We're leaving."

Goon-guy let go of Shawn's hair and vanished wordlessly. Delgado turned back towards Shawn.

"I trust you'll find your way back home on your own. Tow or three blocks to the West you should be able to get a cab. And I think I don't need to mention that this warehouse we're in is in no way connected to me. I have not been here, and there are plenty of people who will confirm that. But of course, you should have enough reasons not to tell the police anything about our little talk, anyway. Just think about our conversation, Mr. Spencer, and I'm sure you will make the right decision. Have a nice day."

And without another word, Lorenzo Delgado turned away and walked out of the warehouse. Shawn remained sitting on the chair for a few endless minutes, his mind a total blank, until he slowly got to his feet. Straightening up was an antagonizing slow process. The ribs on his right side were definitely bruised. Not broken, though, that he was fairly sure of, but bruised bad enough to hurt as he straightened up. Slowly, he made his way out of the warehouse, blinking at the sudden onslaught of sunlight.

As he stepped out onto the street, he took a moment to look around and figure out where he was. The East End, but where exactly he had no idea. Shawn turned towards west and started walking. It was quite a way back to the Psych office, but he didn't care. He had a lot to think about.


	6. Files don't lie, but people do

**Chapter 5 – Files don't lie, but people do**

Delgado had been right, after a few blocks towards the west it was no problem to find a cab. Well, if the thing about being a mob-boss lost its appeal someday, there might be a career in for him as a city guide.

Not that Shawn took a cab. He still had his wallet with him, Delgado and goon-guy hadn't taken anything when they had kidnapped him. But Shawn needed some time alone with his thoughts before he faced anybody he knew again. He'd walk to the office, see if Gus was still there, and ask him to give him a ride. He needed to get his bike back from where it had been left, he couldn't keep it lying there over night.

But that was the least of his worries right now. Damn it, for once he had done everything that was expected of him. He had stayed out of the investigation after Vick had told him to. All right, so he had done a little internet research, but that didn't really count, did it? He hadn't even left the office for that! And what was the next thing that happened? He got kidnapped by a mafia boss who told him that his father had been on his pay list.

But that just couldn't be.

It couldn't be.

His father had taught him a lot of lessons during his childhood and teenage years, too many to keep up with, but one of the lessons Henry had repeated over and over again was the one about the moral responsibility of being a cop. In Henry's book, cops were role models, and nobody had the right to berate others about committing crimes if they used a different rule book for themselves.

And despite their rocky relationship, there was one thing Shawn had never doubted about his father – that he practiced what he preached.

So Delgado had to be lying, it was as easy as that.

There was simply no way that Henry Spencer had been crooked in any way.

But it all came back to 1987. Shawn didn't know if he'd even remember the year so well had it not been for the whole Disneyland-thing. He still remembered clearly the day on which his Dad had told him that they might not be able to make that holiday. Shawn had been devastated because it had been planned for so long, and Gus would be going for sure, so when Henry had sat him down to tell him that Shawn might not be going it had been like a slap in the face.

His adult self could understand his parents a lot better than his younger self, though. Earlier that year, the firm his mother had worked for as an accountant had closed down and she had lost her job. She had only gotten a new job in September, so for nearly half a year the family had been living from his father's wages as a cop. It hadn't been that huge a financial problem at first, there had been some savings his parents had accumulated over the years. But as it happens so often in life, bad luck attracted more and more bad luck.

The first thing had been the broken water pipe in the bathroom. It had burst while no one was home and had flooded the entire bathroom, which had to be renovated completely. And as if to top that off, when Henry had uncovered the broken pipe, it had become obvious that this was not the only piece of piping in the house that needed urgent repairs. In fact, nearly the entire piping of the house had to be redone to avoid another water damage caused by yet another broken pipe. That had not been a cheap endeavour, though his Dad had done as much of the work as he could himself.

Then a spring storm had damaged the roof, and the next thing that had happened had been that the transmission in his Dad's car had to be replaced.

Today Shawn understood that all those unexpected expenses had eaten up his parents' savings and had drawn a fat line through all of their holiday plans.

What made a little tight knot of worry form in Shawn's stomach was that while he understood now that his parents couldn't possibly have afforded the holiday, they had gone to Disneyland nevertheless.

A couple of weeks before the scheduled trip, Shawn's parents had told him that they would be able to afford the holiday despite all that, and Shawn had not questioned that decision just once. In fact, he had been ecstatic about the days he and his best friend spent at the park, riding roller coasters from early morning till late afternoon, checking in with their parents only when necessary. And as far as he could remember, neither of Shawn's parents had mentioned any need to save money during their four day trip there.

So where had that money come from?

It was a far stretch to assume that simply because there had been money problems, his father had gone to Delgado and just thrown away all his moral principles like that. No way.

But there were things that didn't add up. Shawn remembered that his father had been more absent than present in the couple of months before their holiday. Shawn hadn't seen much of his father during that time, and all he had been told was that his father was at work. But, fact was that his father had never done so many double shifts before or after. And from working with the police over the past year and a half, Shawn knew that there was a limit to double shifts and overtime that cops were allowed to work, and Henry's absences had been way beyond that limit.

And during the short hours that he had been home every day, late in the evening when Shawn was already supposed to be in bed, his parents had fought like cats and dogs. They had been fighting a lot during that period of time, and it hadn't yet been those fights that had preceded their split in 1992. Shawn had never quite figured out what they were fighting about, their yelling had been too unspecific for that, but something had been going on which his mother had not approved of.

But come on, just how stupid was that? His Dad was taking kickbacks from the mafia to finance their trip to Disneyland, and his mother knew about it? Sure, great deductive logic Shawn. Even as a scenario for a TV-movie, this was just too absurd. It just couldn't be the truth.

But there had to be something there. Something. Maybe it had been the expression in Delgado's eyes when he had told Shawn about his father being crooked. There had been a spark of something there, a malicious joy about finally being able to reveal a little secret which he had been simply bursting to tell.

Delgado had told Shawn to take a closer look at the Internal Affairs investigation from 1987. That it had happened that exact same year seemed like a strange coincidence. According to the newspaper article, IA had investigated nearly the entire department, but had later on focussed their investigation on a couple of likely suspects, trying to find proof for their involvement with organised crime.

Never once had the thought crossed Shawn's mind that IA might have focussed their attention on his father any longer than for a cursory investigation. But what if they had? What if his father had been one of the suspects during the IA investigation? But why should that be? It was ridiculous to think that his father was crooked, so surely there was nothing for IA to find. Why should they have investigated him?  
But then again, why should Delgado have told Shawn to ask his father about that investigation? Why should he have given Shawn initiative to dig deeper into his father's past if there wasn't something to find there?

But maybe it was just that. Maybe Delgado merely wanted to mess with his head to keep him from Berger case, and as an additional insurance he threatened to reveal Henry as crooked if Shawn didn't listen. But how could he do that if he didn't have proof?

And there was the fact that his father's reaction to the mere mentioning of Delgado's name had been strange. Strange because it had been obvious that Henry had a very close, a very personal reason for not wanting Shawn involved with the investigation concerning Delgado. That strange reaction had been bugging him right from the start, and now it was only feeding the horribly nagging doubt that started to develop inside his mind.

If his thoughts were going to go in circles some more, Shawn was sure that his head would explode.

There were only two ways to tackle this situation. The first was to ask his father about what Delgado had meant. Fat chance of that. For one, his father would tear him to shreds for daring to be kidnapped by Delgado when Henry had explicitly forbidden him to get involved with the mob-boss in any way. Besides, on the off-chance, in the unlikely case that there was something in his father's past which wasn't as straight as Henry always presented it to be, Shawn wasn't sure whether his Dad would tell him the truth about it.

The second way was to get his hands on the Internal Affairs Investigation file from 1987. In there he would find the results of the investigation black on white, and then he would know for sure whether his father had been amongst the suspects or not.

Yes, that was exactly what he was going to do. He was going to get that file first thing tomorrow morning, then he'd read it and see with his own eyes that his father's name didn't show up in it. And then he'd simply forget his little chat with Lorenzo Delgado. If the guy thought he could mess with Shawn's head, he was so wrong.

His Dad a crooked cop, what a joke. Shawn simply needed to find explanations for all the strange things that didn't quite add up, and then Delgado could shove his ridiculous threat where the sun didn't shine.

Head bent low, still mulling all those thoughts over in his head, Shawn continued along his way to the Psych office.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Henry breezed into the Psych office with all the subtlety of a tornado. Barely ten minutes had passed since their phone call, and Gus immediately realised that this definitely had not been enough time to prepare himself for this.

"Did you reach Shawn?"

Gus drew a deep breath and shook his head. "No, his phone still goes straight to voicemail. I've left him about ten messages."

Without another word, Henry picked up the phone on Shawn's desk and dialled a number.

"Karen, it's Henry. Has there been any word on Shawn?"

He listened, tapping his fingers impatiently on the desktop.

"What about the hospitals? Any John Does being admitted? Maybe someone took his wallet." He listened again, shaking his head impatiently. "The morgue?"

Gus drew in a shocked breath, but barely had the time to be shocked because Henry started to yell.

"I'm not trying to tell you how to do your job, Karen! But Gus told me that there's evidence Shawn was involved in an accident. Now let me tell you something coming from over twenty years of experience: accident victims don't just vanish! So do you have the patrol cars looking out for him or not?"

He listened again, his expression darkening with each of Chief Vick's words. "I'm the last person to deny that Shawn is flimsy and not always reliable. I'm just saying you should be a lot more concerned about what cases you involve him in. He's not a cop, but he's involved in cop business. Do I really need to tell you what the dangers of that can be? Besides, Shawn would never leave his blasted bike lying around in a ditch somewhere without contacting anybody. Do you honestly think he crashed his bike and then walked back home as if nothing had happened?"

Both Gus and Henry turned around as the door to the office opened and Shawn walked into the room.

Gus thought that this might be the very best opportunity to get the hell out of here. He had seen his best friend's father angry on uncountable occasions. But he had never before seen such a dark look appear on Henry's face from one moment to the next, and the glare which he directed at his son would have frozen a hot spring.

"Karen, call off the search. Shawn is here…no, he doesn't seem hurt. And now excuse me, I think I'm going to kill him."

Not taking his eyes off Shawn's face, Henry put the receiver back in its cradle. Gus slowly pushed his chair out of the danger zone. He didn't particularly want to be within ten feet of either Spencer man right now. This looked worse than what he had witnessed after the slingshot disaster back in 1988.

For a fleeting moment, he saw Shawn watching his father with a very strange expression on his face, but then Gus blinked and the expression had vanished. Henry didn't seem to have noticed. He made a couple of angry steps towards his son, pointed a finger at him and drew a deep breath.

"What in blazes were you thinking, Shawn?"

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

It was a half-hour walk, then Shawn had reached the Psych office. As he looked up, he could not help but groan at the sight in front of him. His father's truck was parked right in front of the office. In fact, it was parked haphazardly right in front of the entrance, as if his father had stopped just in time before he drove right through the front door.

Shawn wasn't entirely sure that he wanted to face his father right now, not before he had had a chance to take a look at those Internal Affairs file. But it didn't seem as if he had another choice. Shawn took a deep breath to steel himself for what was about to come, then he opened the door to the office and stepped in.

Gus was sitting at his desk, looking at Shawn with a totally stunned expression on his face. His Dad was standing near Shawn's desk, the phone in his hand and talking to somebody. Shawn just barely caught the last sentence he said.

"…think he crashed his bike and then walked home as if nothing had happened?"

Henry turned upon the sound of the opening door and looked at Shawn. And for the very first time in ages, Shawn took a closer look at his father. He tried to imagine his Dad twenty years back, which wasn't difficult. Just add a little more hair on top of his head and it's done. And then suddenly he had the image of his father talking to Delgado in his head, unbidden, and while the image seemed wrong it also seemed…not impossible. If he could already imagine there maybe being some truth to what Delgado had said, what would come next? He needed to stop that, he couldn't think about it until he had seen that file.

But then suddenly the expression on his father's face darkened, and Shawn knew he was in for it now. He still didn't know what his Dad was so absolutely furious about, he didn't even know why his father was here, but trouble hung thick in the air.

Not taking his eyes off Shawn, Henry spoke into the receiver. "Karen, call off the search. Shawn is here…no, he doesn't seem hurt. And now excuse me, I think I'm going to kill him."

He put the phone back onto the cradle, making only small, controlled movements as if he was struggling hard to keep his temper in check, and then suddenly he advanced on Shawn.

"What in blazes were you thinking, Shawn?"

From the corner of his eyes Shawn saw Gus flinch, and he took an involuntary step back.

"What are you talking about?"

"What I'm talking about? You want to know what I'm talking about? What the hell happened, Shawn? Gus calls me, saying the police found your bike somewhere near the interstate, ditched at the scene of a hit and run, with no trace of you, and you want to know what I'm talking about? You cell phone is turned off, all calls going to voicemail for over two hours straight, so nobody knows whether you're hurt, or whether maybe you're lying somewhere slowly dying from internal injuries because you crashed your bloody death trap, and you have the guts to ask me what I am talking about?"

Shawn was shocked at his father's outburst. He had expected his dad to blow from the moment he had seen him in the office, but this rant was slightly disproportionate to the crime of vanishing for two hours. He should have checked his cell phone before coming here, but in all honesty he had forgotten that the battery had probably given out by now.

"Sorry, I didn't know that the cavalry would be called in just because I wasn't available for two hours. I forgot to charge my cell phone. A horrible crime, I know, but it simply happened."

"This isn't about whether or not you charge your cell phone, Shawn! And stop beating about the bush, would you maybe be kind enough to explain how your bike ended up in that ditch in the first place? And where you've been for the past hours? Not to mention how you've come here without your bike? You have fifteen seconds to come up with an answer to all that, Shawn, then I'll lose my patience. And you", he pointed his finger at Gus without even turning around, "stay just where you are!"

Gus, who had made move to slowly get up and sneak out of the office, immediately sank back into his chair.

"I'm waiting, Shawn."

"I don't know why you're making such a huge fuss about nothing, all right? I was driving around, trying to get my head back on straight. And then this car wanted to overtake me on the bike, the driver cut a little too close and we nearly crashed. _Nearly_, Dad. Nothing happened. Well, I ended up in the ditch, but it wasn't that bad."

"Nothing happened? You crash your bike and say nothing has happened?", Henry asked in a dangerously low voice. "And why didn't you call anybody to fetch you and the bike? Who was in that car, anyway? Did they drive away? Did you get their license plate?"

Shawn sighed and tried to keep his face impassive as he told the story he had made up on his way to the office a little earlier.

"No, they didn't drive away. They were two young guys, hadn't had their license for long, and they were horribly sorry for misjudging the distance when they overtook me. The bike didn't start up again, I think the spark plug dislodged or something, so they offered to drive me back to the city. That's all there is to it. I promised them that there would be no trouble because in the end nothing happened. They just made a mistake, and nobody was hurt."  
"Then why didn't you call anybody? And where have you been?"

"I've told you Dad, my cell phone gave out. I forgot to charge it. And how was I supposed to know that the police would immediately find my bike and give out code orange? I'm a grown man, Dad. Mike and Dave dropped me at my apartment, and I walked here."

Henry frowned. "Mike and Dave?"

"The two boys in the car."

"They got any last names?"

Shawn rolled his eyes. "I'm pretty sure they have. I always thought it was obligatory, except maybe for Madonna and ALF."

"Shawn, this is not a joking matter!"

"No, but neither is it the Spanish Inquisition! Dad, just accept the fact that nothing happened."

"Nothing happened? Half the city is looking for you…"

"Which I didn't ask for!"

"…and you say nothing happened", Henry continued, not even listening to his son. "And why didn't _Mike_ and _Dave_ drop you off here if that's where you wanted to go, anyway?"

"They were on their way out of town, I didn't want to keep them any longer. They asked where I lived, and I told them. End of story. And now would you mind telling me why you're here, acting as if I had been missing for weeks?"

Henry angrily slammed his palm on Shawn's desk, making Gus flinch. Shawn, however, wasn't fazed by that display of anger. He had seen plenty of those over the past years, he was no longer susceptible to his Dad's less subtle methods.

"Because I have told you time and again that this bike is going to kill you one day. And now I get the call that you've been in an accident, I think it's my right as a father to get worried."

Shawn raised an eyebrow. "Oh, and this had nothing to do with your little episode in the kitchen yesterday?"

"What episode?", Henry asked, jaw clenched tightly and his eyes darting towards Gus for the barest fragment of a moment.

Shawn sighed. "Yes Dad, I told Gus about it. You've known me for so long now, you should have known. So how about you tell the truth for a change. Could it be that you come barging in here because you thought my "disappearance" was somehow tied to Delgado?"

This time, Henry's face remained an unmoved mask at the mentioning of the name. "And what if it has? You're not a cop, Shawn, you have no business getting involved with the mafia. I told you to stay out of it, and I wasn't sure that you would. That's why I came."

Shawn bit back an angry retort at his father's remark about not being a cop. Instead, he forced a pleasant smile onto his face and opened the door. "Well, it was merely an accident, a lot of unfortunate coincidences, nothing happened, I'm sorry if I worried you all. And to ease your troubled mind, nothing that happened today had anything to do with Delgado, or the mafia. I'm sorry that you came here for nothing. Goodbye."

Henry didn't leave, but Shawn didn't even notice. He went over to Gus' desk and forced himself to smile at his friend. "Would you mind giving me a ride?"

Gus' eyes insecurely darted between Henry and Shawn for a moment, then Henry breathed a deep, angry sigh and vanished, slamming the door shut on his way out. Gus sagged a little in relief, then looked up at Shawn.

"All right, what happened?"

Shawn shrugged. "I think I just told you. I'm fairly sure it was loud enough for you to hear as well."

Gus nodded. "Yes, and just like your Dad, I didn't believe a single word of it. Come on, Shawn. Mike and Dave? And there's no way that a dislodged spark plug stops you from starting that bike for any longer than two minutes. I don't know who is supposed to buy your bull and crap story, but I for one surely don't."

Shawn leaned back against his desk and closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose with thumb and index finger. Gus got up from his chair.

"All right, if you don't want to tell me, you don't have to. But don't start lying to me. I know you better than to buy that. Shall we go get your bike?"

"It was Delgado."  
Gus, already halfway at the door, spun around. "What?!"

"It was Delgado who caused the accident. He took me to some warehouse in the East End to have a little chat. Basically, he told me to keep out of the Berger case."  
"Delgado kidnapped you?"

Shawn sighed. "Yes, but that's not the point."

"Then what is, Shawn?"

"I need to see that Internal Affairs file, as soon as possible. Officer Allen isn't in until tomorrow morning." Finally, he looked up at his best friend. "There's a lot I need to think about right now. I promise you that I'll tell you everything that happened today, but not until I've seen that file. I really need to check something."

Gus frowned, not entirely sure what to make of his friend's behaviour, but finally he nodded. "All right. Then let's make a deal. The police towed your bike to the station. If you want to go look at the file tomorrow morning anyway, you can as well do it under the cover of getting your bike back. Then at least nobody will question your presence in the station. And then you tell me what is going on here."

Shawn nodded. "All right. Thanks dude."

"That's all right. Now get going, I'll give you a ride home."

Shawn nodded and followed Gus out of the office.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

In the end, Shawn couldn't remember what he did for the rest of the day. He checked all messages on his answering machine and voicemail – nineteen all in all, most of them from Gus – but the rest of the day was a blur. Most of the time he sat there, brooding over and over again about Delgado and the mafia, about his Dad, and money, and Disneyland, and back to Delgado and the mafia. His thoughts were going in circles, and late in the evening his head hurt so much that he switched on the TV and tried to distract himself.

It didn't work just one little bit. Shawn went through two hours of a comedy rerun, then switched through a documentary on penguins on the Discovery Channel, but then his channel surfing had him end up on a rerun of The Godfather, and with a curse he threw the remote towards the plasma screen.

Now the mafia was also ruining television for him. Just bloody great. Well, his apartment needed a thorough cleaning, anyway.

Shawn didn't sleep well that night. Or much, for that matter. Between eleven and one o'clock in the night he developed the perfect cleaning system, he recalled that, but an hour later already he couldn't remember any details of the system, or why it implied stacking things incredibly high against the walls. He slept sporadically, tossing and turning, then getting up for another hour of senselessly carrying things around his apartment with the excuse that he was cleaning. Then back to bed for another hour, of which he got maybe fifteen minutes of sleep, all combined.

It wasn't that he was not tired, on the contrary. He felt dead tired, but at the same time he was strangely wired, the synapses in his brain working overtime, not giving him any chance to rest.

Finally, at four in the morning, Shawn sank down on his bed, on top of the blankets, and fell into an exhausted sleep.

Which was interrupted barely three hours later by the sound of somebody knocking loudly on his front door. With a groan, Shawn turned around in bed, opened one bleary eye and glanced at his alarm clock. Five minutes past seven. Just great. With another loud groan, he pulled the pillow over his head, but that didn't help any to drown out the knocking. On the contrary, it seemed to grow more insistent.

Cursing whoever it was who was standing in front of that door, Shawn climbed out of the bed and walked to the door, not bothering to put on a shirt. Somebody who knocked at such an unholy hour needed to live with seeing him shirtless.

"What is it?", Shawn snapped as he pulled the door open. Seeing who was standing in front of it, he immediately tried to slam it shut again, but his early visitor had too quick reflexes for that.

"Dad, whatever it is, it'll have to wait until later. Much later. I didn't get much sleep tonight, and the last thing I need right now is another lecture."

Hand on the door, Henry pushed it open a bit more and looked his son up and down. He opened his mouth to say something, but then suddenly he stared fixedly at his son's torso, eyes narrowing.

"What happened to you?"

Shawn frowned and followed his father's gaze. He hadn't even noticed it, but the right side of his ribcage was showing a colourful array of bruises from his little encounters with goon-guy the previous day. Immediately, he turned to the side, blocking his father's view on the bruises.

"Nothing. It's from when I fell off the bike yesterday."

Henry's eyebrows rose. "Oh, so now you fell off the bike during your little, harmless accident yesterday?"

Shawn closed the door a couple of inches. "What do you want, Dad?"

"I wanted to talk to you again. About yesterday. I don't believe a word of that bullshit story you've tried to sell me. And right now, I want to have some answers. Like for example what kind of a fall from a motorbike leaves a fist-sized bruise on your ribcage."

Shaw shook his head. "Dad, I don't know what you want to hear, but right now I'm not in the mood for talking, all right?"

He made move to close the door, but Henry put his hand against it again and pushed. "Shawn, who tried to run you off the road yesterday? If this has anything to do with Delgado, I need to know it."  
"Oh yes? And why?"

Henry drew a breath, staring at Shawn somewhat helplessly. "Because I'm your father. I think if a mafia boss is threatening my son, then I have a right to know!"

Shawn shook his head. "That's not it, and you know it."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that this conversation is over, Dad. I'm really not in the mood. I did what you wanted, I stayed out of the investigation, that's all you need to know."

And before Henry had the chance to react, Shawn slammed the door in his face. Almost immediately, the knocking started again.

"Shawn! Open the door, Shawn! We're not finished yet. Shawn!"

Shawn turned away from the door and turned on the television. Instead of being discouraged by the sounds of the TV, Henry started knocking more forcefully, and his yelling got louder. With a sigh, Shawn shrugged into some clothes and grabbed his backpack. He kept a toothbrush at the office, and he could freshen up there as well. He just needed to get out of here before his father either knocked the door down or before his neighbours called the police.

Grabbing his cell phone, Shawn slid the window open and silently climbed out onto the fire escape. Once he had descended the metal stairs to the side street next to his apartment building, he pulled out his cell phone and called Gus.

"Hey dude, it's me. A little change in plan, could you maybe come and get me a little earlier? My Dad's trying to knock down my door and I want to get away before he realises that I took the window-escape. Thanks man."

Ten minutes later, Gus' little blue car stopped in front of a coffee shop two blocks away from Shawn's apartment. Shawn was by now carrying two coffee to go and quickly climbed into the passenger seat.

"Thanks. Just drop me off at the police station. I'm going to get my bike, take a look at those IA files, then I'll meet you at the office, all right?"

"Sure thing."

Fifteen minutes later, Shawn got out of Gus' car and entered the Police Station. He already had an idea of how to get into the Records Room, he only needed to find Officer Allen.

He was lucky. Not that he hadn't earned a little luck after all that had happened yesterday. There she was, Officer Allen, behind the reception desk. And even better, she was alone.

"Hello, Officer Allen", Shawn said with a bright smile as he stepped up to the desk. Allen looked up from her files and, as soon as she saw Shawn, a smile spread on her face.

"Mr. Spencer, what a pleasure. I haven't seen you around for quite some time."

"Well, you know how it is. The spirits have kept me busy, and I cannot always chose where they lead me."

Allen smiled. "And what can I help you with today?"

"I had a little problem with my bike yesterday, and the police was kind enough to tow it to the station. The keys should be here somewhere."

Allen looked into a couple of desk drawers, then came up with Shawn's key ring in her hand. "Those?"

"You're an angel, Officer Allen."

He reached for the keys, but the moment his hand made contact with the metal he let his eyes roll back in his head and started twitching.

"Mr. Spencer?", Allen asked, slightly worried. "Are you all right?"

"The key…there is a presence here, a strong presence…"

"In the key?", Allen asked doubtfully.

Shawn shook his head. "No. But the key is pointing me…the spirit wants to follow…"

The key in his outstretched arm pointing straight ahead, he made a few hasty steps in the direction of the records room, knowing that Allen would follow.

"It's a strong presence, so strong…No, what do you want from me? Where shall I go?"

They had reached the door to the Records Room now, and Shawn reached out for the doorknob.

"The door is locked, Mr. Spencer."

Shawn knew that, that was why he needed to do this whole charade in the first place. He started throwing himself against the door, careful not to make too much noise. The last thing he needed now was to attract the attention of another officer.

"The spirits are pulling me…the presence is in there…its calling me…"

He threw himself against the door another few times for emphasis, and finally Allen pulled out her keys and unlocked the door. Shawn immediately went through the door, but as Allen wanted to follow him he turned around and started jerking.

"Don't…", he growled, in a voice as deep and as gravely as he could bring out. "Don't stray any further, the spirits need their distance."

Allen remained standing in the doorway, looking at Shawn with a doubtful expression on her face.

"But I can't leave Mr. Spencer alone in here", she said, hesitantly.

"He isn't alone", Shawn growled, rolling his eyes back until only the white was showing. He stumbled a few feet backwards. "Stay back, you cannot watch."

Shawn stumbled through the records room, walking between the shelves out of sight of Officer Allen. Once she wasn't visible anymore, he stopped his jerky movements, only occasionally banging a hand against a shelf, or growling loudly to keep the impression alive that he was possessed. This whole charade was more worthy of "The Exorcist" than of his usual performances, but for now it had stunned Allen into silent obedience, and that was all he needed. His conscience about treating the gullible officer like that would have to wait until later. He'd find a way to make it up to her.

He didn't know exactly where in the records room the files of Internal Affairs were kept, but Shawn knew that he had seen a lockable file cabinet in one corner on one of his previous visits. It made sense to keep the sensitive files from Internal Affairs in a lockable cabinet and not stacked on shelves like the remaining files. Shawn hurried towards it, but when he pulled at the drawers, they were locked. He should have guessed. Quickly, Shawn took a closer look at the labels on the drawers. At least that was something, they were sorted by year.

Shawn pulled a paperclip out of the pocket of his jeans and started bending it. He wasn't Gus when it came to breaking locks, but this was no electronic gadget, this was a good, old fashioned mechanical lock. And Shawn had been jimmying those locks since early childhood. A bit of fumbling with the paperclip, bent in just the right shape, the sound of metal upon metal covered up by renewed growling, and the drawer slid open. Shawn knew that he didn't have much time left, so he quickly sorted through the files. He knew that there should be a big file, containing all the documents of the eight months investigation. But there also should be a smaller folder, a summarization of that huge file.

With trembling fingers, Shawn found the folder and pulled it out. He didn't have an time to read it now, so he'd just have to take it with him. This whole thing was personal now, and it was important enough to justify the act of stealing a file.

Shawn quickly stuffed the file into his pants and hid it under his shirt, then he stumbled back towards Officer Allen with renewed growling.

The superstitious officer was still standing in the doorframe, watching him. Bless her, Shawn thought. After this was over, he really had to get her something to make up for conning her like that time and again. With another deep, guttural growl he stormed past her and, seeing that the corridor outside was empty, tossed himself against the walls a few times for good measure, then sunk in on himself.

"Are you all right, Mr. Spencer?"

Shawn looked up at her, panting slightly form his exertion. "The presence was strong…I don't remember, what did I do?"

"The spirits led you through the file room. Were they pointing you towards something?"

Shawn stared at his hands as if the answer to the question lay there. For good measure, he forced his hands to tremble a little. "No. No, the presence was gone suddenly. It no longer wanted me as a medium. I'm sorry if I caused you any trouble, Officer Allen."

She smiled at him. "No trouble at all, Mr. Spencer. As long as you didn't hurt yourself."  
Shawn smiled back. "No, I didn't. Thank you again for the keys, Officer Allen. I should be leaving now. Have a nice day."

"You too, Mr. Spencer."

Shawn turned around and it took him all his self-restrain not to start running out of the police station. Once outside, he located his bike in the parking lot, helmet hanging loosely from the handle. He put the helmet on his head, started the bike and drove off as quickly as he could. He had really done it. He had really gotten the file. Well, technically he had stolen the file, but that didn't matter so much right now.

He had no idea how he would get the file back to the Police Station once he was finished with it, but that was thing he didn't concern himself with right now. No, now his thoughts were focussed on one thing alone: getting to the office as fast as he could so that he could finally read the file and have this whole ridiculous thought about his father being paid off by the mob be over and done with.

He managed all of three blocks before curiosity got the better of him. So much for going to the office before he had a look at the file.

Shawn pulled the bike to the side of the road near a little park, took off his helmet, and sat down on an empty bench. Heart beating fast in his throat, Shawn pulled out the file and opened it. He just needed to find the names of the officers who had been suspected by Internal Affairs. Not the lists from the beginning of the file, he needed the ones who had been suspected by the end of the investigation. Those were the names he was looking for, the ones who had been suspected but who hadn't been convicted for a lack of proof.

There was a whole lot of legal babble in the file but finally Shawn found what he was searching for. And at the end of the paragraph summarising the investigative efforts, Shawn found a paragraph labelled "Officers under suspicion at the end of the investigation". Below it were five names, listing the officers with name, ranks, and all kind of other personal data which Shawn skimmed more than read. He was only interested in the names.

_Stuart Colber_

Shawn had heard the name before, but couldn't connect it to a face. Probably he had met the man during one of his visits to the police station as a child, but he could not tell for sure.

_Justin Gagnetti_

_Victor Granger_

Those two men Shawn knew from his visits to the Police Station as a kid. He didn't know what had become of them, though, he hadn't seen either man in more than fifteen years.

_Eric Parker_

That name meant absolutely nothing to Shawn, but that didn't have to mean anything. He had been at the station often, but certainly not often enough to know all the officers working in Santa Barbara at that time. Only one more name on the list, then this whole vicious circle of suspicion and mistrust would be over and done with. Shawn read on.

_Henry Spencer_


	7. I just called to saywhere did all the

**Chapter 6 – I just called to say…where did all the money come from?**

Shawn didn't know how he got to the office. He didn't even know for how long he had sat on that bench, staring at his father's name mocking him from the page of the Internal Affairs file.

So his Dad had been under investigation twenty years back. And not only that, he had been one of the five officers in the SBPD who had been under suspicion right until the end of the investigation. Right until the investigation had been closed because eight months of investigating had brought forth no proof of their guilt.

But no proof didn't mean they were all innocent, it just meant that they hadn't been found out. So now Shawn had a mob-boss who claimed that his father had been crooked, and he had a file which staid that his father had been under close scrutiny because Internal Affairs also believed he might be crooked.

Damn.

Shawn couldn't particularly put a label to how he was feeling right now. Betrayed, definitely, he felt betrayed, though he couldn't explain why. Maybe because the man who had taught him all those lessons about honesty and not cheating his way through life, because the man who had taught Shawn that he needed to stand up for his mistakes, because that man, his father for crying out loud, obviously never practiced what he preached.

But how could that be? How in the name of all that's good could that be? Sure, money was a great motivator, and people had done a lot worse things for money, but his father? Shawn just couldn't see his father taking bribes, or turning a blind eye, or in any way doing something just because a mobster told him to. But Delgado said he had. And the file said might have.

His Dad had been under investigation, from Internal Affairs, no less. For eight months. And Shawn knew that this didn't just happen to a police officer. A cursory inspection maybe, that could happen to any policeman at a time if somebody alerted IA for some reason, but an eight months long investigation that focussed on his father as one of five main suspects spoke a different language entirely. There had to have been enough leads for IA to believe that Henry Spencer was crooked, and that thought froze up something inside Shawn.

It all just fit together so bloody well, but it couldn't be true.

"Shawn?"

Startled, Shawn looked up and was surprised to see Gus looking at him with a worried from. He was even more startled when he realised that he was sitting on his bike, helmet in hand as if he had just taken it off, right outside the Psych office. Problem was, he didn't even remember driving here.

"Shawn, are you all right? You've been sitting out here for over five minutes."

Shaking his head to clear the cobwebs in brain, Shawn got up from the bike and walked past Gus into the office.

"Shawn, what's going on?"

Shawn put his helmet down on his desk and sank down into his desk chair. "Can I ask you something, Gus?"

Gus sat down so that he was facing Shawn, the worried expression still on his face. "Sure."  
"Your Dad is working for the health department, right?"

Gus nodded. "Yes. I thought you knew that."  
Shawn sighed. "I do. It's just…if somebody told you that he was taking money in exchange for turning a blind eye on restaurants that didn't fulfil hygiene standards, what would you say?"

"That they're lying. Shawn, what is going on? Did you get to look at the file? And stop staring at the wall, you're starting to creep me out."

Shawn stared at the wall ahead for a moment, then he focussed his eyes on Gus. "You might as well refill your coffee, the story is a bit longer."

And he told Gus. Everything. He told him again about how his father had reacted to hearing Delgado's name, he told him everything Delgado had said, he told Gus about Disneyland and the money, about his parents fighting about the money, about his father's visit to his apartment in the morning, and he told him about the Internal Affairs file.

As he was finished, he sank against the back of his chair, exhausted and with a murder headache starting to develop. Gus was sitting with the open file in his hand, opened on the page that held Henry's name, but he wasn't looking at it.

"You stole the file?"

"Gus, do you really think that's the most important thing right now? I'll figure out a way to replace it without anybody noticing, and that stupid file is really the least of my worries right now."

Gus drew a deep breath. "Well, I don't really know what to say, Shawn."

"Gee, thanks. That helps a lot."

Gus rolled his eyes and put the file away. "Listen, this all is a bit much to take in, right? You're telling me that your father is working for the mafia, and all just because of a trip to Disneyland. That does sound strange."

Shawn jumped to his feet and started pacing. "Did you even listen to what I've been telling you? This is not about Disneyland, Gus. It's about the fact that we didn't have the money for the trip, and suddenly we had the money. And just around the same time, Internal Affairs starts investigating my father for eight months, eight months Gus, because somebody in the SBPD is working for the mob. And a mob-boss tells me that my father was being paid off by him. What am I supposed to think about that?"

Gus looked at Shawn for a long moment, then he shrugged. "I understand that all this sounds pretty strange. But if you want some advice, go and talk to your Dad."

At that, Shawn laughed out loud. "Yeah? Weren't you the one who freaked out yesterday because you thought I was suggesting we go and ask former cops whether they were crooked? And now you're suggesting I just go ahead and do exactly that?"

Gus rolled his eyes. "No. I'm suggesting that you go and talk to your _father_, Shawn. Obviously, he also wants to talk to you."

"No, he doesn't want to talk to me. He wants to _yell_ at me for getting involved with the mafia, which by the way wasn't even my fault at all. And I can't really stand that hypocritical bullshit right now."

Gus sighed deeply. "Listen, Shawn. If you don't talk to your Dad about this, all you're going to get out of this is an ulcer because you keep on brooding about it. I'm not saying that it doesn't sound really strange. But if there is an explanation for what has been going on twenty years ago, your Dad is the one who can give it to you. I doubt that you'll get any satisfying answers if you don't go and talk to him."  
Shawn stared unfocusedly at the wall ahead. "And what…what if Delgado is right? What if my father, for what reason ever, really was a crooked cop?"

That was the real reason for his worry, Shawn realised. Whatever he had unearthed so far, nothing had brought the proof of his father's innocence that he had been hoping to find. What if there was none because his father wasn't innocent? What if the man he had known for all his life suddenly turned out to be a totally different person?

Gus shook his head. "I don't believe that, Shawn. Not your Dad. But as I said, you'll never find out if you don't talk to him."

"He probably won't answer me anyway. Or he'll lie."

"Shawn, you go and talk to your Dad right now. If you don't, I'll call him and have him come here. If you're letting these things fester it won't help you any, either."

Shawn ran his hand through his hair and mussed it up, lost deep in thought. After a minute or two, he got up and grabbed his helmet.

"All right, I'll go talk to him."

Gus nodded. "You're okay to drive, or shall I give you a ride?"

Shawn shook his head. "No, I'm okay."

He grabbed the file from Gus' desk and shoved it into the backpack.

"Let me know what comes out of this."

Shawn nodded. "Sure."

Outside, Shawn put on his helmet and straddled the bike. On the drive to his father's house he caught himself taking the longest route he could think of. He didn't need a psychologist to tell him that this meant he didn't want to face his father right now. As he turned into his father's street, he kept his eyes out for his father's truck. If it wasn't in the driveway, he'd just drive past and pretend all this wasn't happening.

But his luck for the day had run out. The truck was standing in the driveway, and with his heart beating fast in his chest, Shawn parked the bike next to it, got off, took of his helmet and walked to the front door.

It took Henry a minute to react to Shawn's knock, and as he saw who was standing in front of his house, he kept the screen door locked.

"Shawn."

"Dad, we need to talk."

Henry raised an eyebrow and did nothing to hide the ire on his face. "Really? Now all of a sudden we do?"

Shawn drew a deep breath. "Yes, we do."

"Shawn, if you think for just one moment that I'm playing along with your stupid games, then you're wrong. Just this morning you slammed the door in my face and climbed out the window because I wanted to talk to you. Come back when you've grown up."

He turned away.

"If you want to know what Delgado said to me yesterday, you have to let me in. I'm not telling you while standing out here on the porch."

Suddenly, the screen door opened and Henry pulled Shawn into the house by his arm. Not bothering to lock the door, which Shawn couldn't remember ever happening before, Henry pulled Shawn along into the kitchen.

"What did you just say?"

The anger had completely vanished from Henry's face for the moment, and it had been replaced by an expression Shawn hadn't seen before. Henry's eyes were roaming up and down his son, as if worried that Shawn was missing a crucial body part.

Shawn sighed. "Listen, Dad, it's complicated."  
"Did he hurt you?"

"What?"

"Did Delgado hurt you, Shawn?"

Shawn shook his head. "No. I'm all right."  
"What about those bruises?"

"Nothing. I slipped while shaving."

"Shawn, this is no laughing matter!"

Shawn sighed. "Delgado had a goon with him who didn't share my sense of humour. But that's not important now, and it's not why I came here."

"Not important?", Henry sputtered. "Not important? Shawn, being roughed up by a mafia goon is not exactly what I'd label _not important_."

"Well, from where I'm standing it doesn't seem all that important", Shawn said and couldn't keep a touch of hostility out of his voice. Henry frowned and leaned back against the kitchen counter.

"All right, I'll play along. Why are you here?"

Shawn pulled off his backpack and pulled out the file. Henry's eyes widened as Shawn showed him the cover of the file, which said in bold letters "**1987 Santa Barbara PD Internal Affairs: Lorenzo Delgado / Bribery Charges**".

"Where did you get that?", Henry rasped out.

"Doesn't matter. The important thing is that I got it. Care to explain what it says inside?"

Henry closed his eyes for a moment, and Shawn could literally see how his father fought to keep control over his facial expression.

"Shawn, the principle of an Internal Affairs Investigation is that it's for the eyes of the IA only. I don't know what it says."

"Oh don't give me that crap. You want to tell me that you were the focus of an IA investigation for eight months and didn't know about it? Sure, that's credible."

Henry sighed, thought for a moment, and then leaned back against the counter.

"And you think that by stealing a file from the police station you've earned yourself a chance to talk to me about it?"

"This is not about earning a chance", Shawn yelled. He didn't know where it came from, but suddenly the anger was there and refused to vanish again. "This is not one of your stupid games, Dad. Right now I don't care how many hats there are in the room. This is about you being suspected of being crooked. You were one of five suspects, Dad. One of five police officers suspected of being on the mob's payroll. That's what this is about!"

At those words, Henry laughed. Shawn's fury rose. "I don't think it's a laughing matter, Dad."  
"No, neither do I. The fact that my own son believes being a suspect is the same as being convicted is no laughing matter. But it's ridiculous."

"Really? Then how did your name end up in that file? Why would you be investigated for so long if there was nothing to the story?"

Henry leaned back and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "My name ended up in that file because those Internal Affairs bastards were harassing the entire department for months without figuring out just the tiniest thing. Being suspected without the least shred of proof is something different than being proved to be a crooked cop, Shawn."

"Then what about the money?"

Henry frowned. "What money? What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about the money that suddenly appeared in 1987. The money for our holiday which we didn't have, and which we suddenly did have. Even though Mom didn't find another job until later. Even though the car needed to be fixed. The money you and Mom were fighting about the entire time, late at night when you thought I didn't hear, that money!"

Something crossed Henry's face at Shawn's words, something like regret, but it vanished as quickly as it had come. Then, much to Shawn's chagrin, he shook his head and silently laughed again.

"You think I took money from the mob so we could go to Disneyland? Shawn, of all the things you've ever come up with, that has to be the most hare-brained, insanely stupid one of them all."

"Yeah?", Shawn snapped. "If it's so insane, then maybe you could explain to me where the money came from."

"Yes, I can. You could have simply asked, you didn't need to steal a file and come into my house accusing me of being crooked to get that explanation. The money came from honest work. Your mother did freelance accounting for some months, in the mornings, when you were at school."

"Oh, and that paid for all the expenses of that year?"

"No, if you want to know it didn't. But I worked overtime. And when my shift plan allowed it, I worked a second job as a security guard at the marina, at night. That's what your mother and I were fighting about, because she didn't want me to do that. I was overworked as it was, and I was hardly ever home. Not to mention that if word had gotten out about it, I'd have been in serious trouble at the station. But I did it nevertheless, because you were so bloody keen on going on that stupid holiday. Your mother and I were cutting corners wherever we could to make it work, and now you come here and accuse me of taking money from criminals? Just what is wrong with you, Shawn?"

"I don't know, Dad, maybe it's because a certain mob-boss has told me an entirely different story about where the money came from!", Shawn yelled back.

Henry looked as if he had been slapped, then after a moment he went over towards the wall and got the telephone.

"You don't believe me? Fine. It's a bit sad that you believe a mobster more than you believe your own father, but so be it. If you don't believe me, ask your mother."

Henry started dialling, and Shawn looked at him in total astonishment. "You know Mom's phone number, off the tip of your tongue?"

"Believe it or not, we do talk occasionally." Henry's voice was pure venom.

"Oh yes? And what should you two have left to talk about?"

"The only thing we still have in common. Our son. Margaret? It's Henry. No, nothing happened, he's all right. In fact, he's here right now and he wants to ask you something."

Henry held the phone out to Shawn. "Go on ahead, just ask her."

Hesitantly, Shawn took the phone. He didn't want to talk to his mother now, he didn't want to be set up by his father just so that it ended like it always did – with Henry being right and Shawn having done something stupid. Slowly, he brought the phone up to his ear.

"Hey Mom."

"Shawn, is everything all right? Your father sounded strange."

"No, everything is all right. We've just been…talking."

"He said you wanted to ask me something?"

Shawn hesitated for a moment. He most certainly wouldn't walk into the trap his father had set up and ask his mother about the money. If Henry was that willing for his mother to confirm his story, then she would. Probably because it was the truth.

"I was just wondering whether you'll come to Santa Barbara sometime in the future."

There was a short pause on the other end of the line. "I hadn't planned on it, Shawn. Why, do I need to come over? Are you all right? Or is anything wrong with your father?"

"No, nothing is wrong Mom. I was just wondering, you know, with Christmas coming up."

"Shawn, it's June. Are you sure you're all right?"  
"Yes, yes I am. Sorry, I didn't want to bother you, just a stupid discussion with Dad that got out of hand. No need to worry about anything, I promise. I'll call you sometime next week, all right?"

"Sure. Promise me you'll let me know if anything is going on."

"Promise. Bye Mom."

"Bye Shawn."

Shawn disconnected and put the phone down on the table. Henry watched him with barely concealed fury on his face.

"You have the guts to come here and accuse me, but you don't dare to ask your mother a simple question?"

Shawn sighed and rubbed his temples to stave off a starting headache. "If you already tell me to call her, then I know what her answer will be."

"What, you think I threatened her telepathically to answer the way I want her to?"

Shawn shook his head. "No. So I was wrong about the money for the holiday. I'm sorry, all right? But that doesn't change the fact that something is going on here and you're not telling me the truth. Your reaction when I first mentioned Delgado's name was totally over the top. Personal. There is something going on about him, and you're not telling me what it is."

Henry grabbed the phone and put it back onto the fixture on the wall. "This conversation is over, Shawn", he said tiredly, without looking at his son.

"No, it isn't."

"It is!", Henry spun around and pointed into the direction of the front door. "Go, now!"

Shawn glared at his father for a few endless seconds, but Henry didn't so much as blink. Angrily, Shawn snatched the file from the kitchen table, stuffed it in his backpack and grabbed his helmet.

"All right, if that's the way you want to play it. I'll leave. But believe me that I'll get to the bottom of this."

"You will stay out of this, Shawn! You promised you'd stay away from the investigation. I'll call Karen if that's what it takes to keep you out of it. I'll blow the horns on this whole fake-psychic thing you've been playing on everybody if I need to, but you _will_ stay out of this!"

Shawn drew breath to reply, but found that for the first time in ages he didn't find any words to respond to that. Without as much as glancing at his father again, he stormed out of the house.

He drove straight back to the office, where he slammed the door shut behind himself and for good measure tossed his helmet onto the couch without looking. It nearly hit Gus in the head.

"Hey! That's how people get killed!"

"Sorry dude", Shawn said tiredly and sank down in a chair. Gus turned off the TV and looked at his friend with both his eyebrows raised.

"You don't look as if talking to your father had been a huge success."

"Oh well, that depends. I now know that the money for our holiday didn't come from the mob, and oh, before I forget, I climbed up another two or three steps on the "What have I done to earn such a son"-scale. All in all, I couldn't think of a better way to spend my lunch break, except maybe for getting lunch."

Gus got up from the couch. "I bought some burritos earlier. I'll pop them in the microwave."

"Thanks Gus, you're my saviour."

"Well, I'd say I hope you think about that next time I tell you that something you're about to do is a bad idea, but I already know that hoping for that is in vain. So why don't you just tell me what your father said."  
Shawn laughed mirthlessly and rubbed his eyes as Gus placed the food in the microwave. "Oh, you can sum that up nicely. _'Hare-brained idea, idiot for thinking I take money from the mob, the money came from honest work, here, call your mother if you don't believe me.'_ That's about it."

"Ouch. But at least now you've got that cleared up. Maybe we should ask Vick if she has another case for us, something not mafia related."

Shawn shook his head. "I got nothing cleared up."

Gus' eyes widened. "You don't believe your Dad?"

"Oh, I believe him about the money for our holiday all right. But that doesn't mean nothing at all was going on back then. There is something he's not telling me, and I will find out what it is. Something happened back then that caused my Dad to be spooked enough to threaten to rat out on me to Vick if I don't keep away from it, something happened that caused that IA investigation against him and those other four cops, and I'm going to find out what it is."

"Wait, wait, wait. Your Dad threatened to tell Vick that you're a fake?"

Shawn nodded.

"But still you want to dig into it and try to find out what is wrong? Are you nuts, Shawn? You'll get into deep trouble for that."

Shawn shook his head. "It's a threat, nothing more. If he tells Vick that I'm not a psychic, then he also needs to come up with an explanation why he covered up for me in the first place. He won't do that. It's just his way of saying that he's serious about not wanting me to get involved any further."

"And yet that's exactly what you're going to do."

The microwave dinged, and as Gus pulled out the burritos, Shawn got up from his chair and started pacing. "Yes, that's exactly what I am going to do. I need to find out what was going on with my Dad back then, and I need to do that without him, the police, or the mob noticing. To the bat-cave, Robin, Gotham City needs us!"

The ringing of the phone spared Gus of answering that. Gesturing for his friend to go ahead and start eating, Shawn went over to his desk and picked up the receiver.

"Hello?"

"_I thought you had received clear instructions, Mr. Spencer._"

"Yes I know, but I really didn't have time to brush and floss today. Who is this, the dentists' union?"

"_You should have taken this more seriously. You received a fair warning about not getting involved any further._"

Something leaden settled into Shawn's stomach.

"Who is this?"

Gus looked up from his food with a worried frown.

"_You went to the police station this morning, despite the warning of what would happen if you did. Now I'm afraid you'll have to bear the consequences. Maybe you should call your father and warn him that his dirty little secret is about to come out._"

"I was only getting my bike back!", Shawn yelled, but all he heard was the dial tone. Slowly, Shawn put the receiver back on its cradle and sank down in the nearest chair.

"Shawn, who was that?"

"They were watching me. Delgado, or his men. They knew that I was in the police station this morning."

"But you were only getting your bike back, you weren't even there for the case!"

"Either they don't know that, or they don't care."

"This is not good, dude."

Shawn shook his head. No, it definitely wasn't good. He still didn't know whether Delgado had been telling the truth about having evidence against his father, but he certainly wouldn't threaten to make it public if he didn't have something that would throw a bad light on Henry Spencer. And now he was going to make that public. Man, this was so not good, not good didn't even begin to describe it.

Shawn thought back on his meeting with the mob-boss. Those cold eyes. In fact, the only time Delgado's eyes had shown any form of emotion at all had been when he had threatened Shawn and his father. The man enjoyed that kind of thing, and Shawn was sure that nothing in the world would stop him from what he was about to do now. Whatever documents or else Delgado had, they would come out. Shawn didn't even want to think about it.

But who was to say that this was the end of it? Within less than a day, Delgado had figured out all the vital information not only about Shawn himself, but about the people close to him. Showing Shawn those little dossiers had been an obvious threat, one he had not really thought about now. It was bad enough that his father was going to be dragged into this even deeper than he had already been involved, but whatever happened, Shawn would not let the mob-boss drag anybody else into it, as well.

"Gus, you should keep out of this from now on."

Gus frowned. "And why is that?"

"Right now, that bastard is dragging my Dad into this, trying to ruin his life by bringing up whatever went down twenty years ago. But who says he'll stop there? I only fetched my bike this morning, and now this happened. What if Delgado decides that going after my Dad wasn't enough? I don't want you to be involved in all this just because you're my friend."

Gus sat back down on the couch and regarded his friend with a disbelieving frown.

"But that's just the point, isn't it? Everybody knows I'm your friend. Delgado knows, as well, nothing we can do about that anymore. Shawn, half the city knows we're best friends. If he's got somebody at the police station working for him, he's bound to know. If he's watching you, he's bound to know. If he's asking people, he's bound to know. It's not as if we've tried to keep our friendship a secret, even that cute barista over at the coffee shop knows that we're best friends."

Shawn grimaced. "I've been meaning to talk to you about that. You see, it might be that due to a totally unplanned and coincidental misunderstanding, the barista might not exactly think we're _best friends_."

"Oh no?" Gus' eyebrows went up. "I was planning on asking her out in the foreseeable future, so you've got all of ten seconds to tell me what it is she thinks we are, Shawn."

Shawn sighed. "That we're…well, that we're kinda like…together, you know. But it wasn't my fault", he hastily added. "The last time I was over at the coffee shop, we started talking. She might have mentioned that she thinks you're cute. I wanted to step in for you and agreed with her, and somehow, that gave her the wrong impression. Who would have thought how quickly a harmless conversation can take such a strange turn."

"Shawn!"

Shawn raised his head in a pacifying gesture. "But I already have a plan, Gus. At the opportune moment, we're going to stage a huge break up while waiting in line for our double espressos, and after a short period of silently contemplating your sexuality, bingo!, you can go ahead and ask her out."  
Gus shook his head. "I won't say anything about this right now. I'll just sit here and pretend those last few minutes haven't happened."

"That might be the best approach to the situation, yes."

Gus sighed. "Right. And what are we going to do about the mob-boss threatening you and your family?"

Shawn reached for one of the burritos, cold again by now, and leaned back in his chair. "I need to think about that for a moment. And then I need to call my father and give him a warning about what might be happening. I'm sure he'll find a way to blame that on me as well, but I'll just have to live with it."

Gus looked at Shawn with an expression that conveyed clearly that he was glad not to be the one who had to make that particular phone call. "I'll just leave you alone for that particular conversation."

Shawn rolled his eyes. "Right Brutus, just twist the knife once more on your way out."

"All right, all right, I'll stay."

Gus sank back in his chair and Shawn picked up the phone and dialled his father's cell phone. The phone rang six times, then it went to voicemail. With a sigh, Shawn hung up and dialled again, this time his father's landline. Right now he didn't want to play hide and seek with his father.

Henry picked up on the fourth ring, sounding slightly out of breath as if he had just come hurrying in from outside.

"Hello?"

"Dad, it's me."

Silence. For a full ten seconds.

"Dad, are you still there?"

"Yes. But I won't be if you don't give me a good reason not to hang up real quick."

"Something happened."

"Are you all right?"

"Yes Dad. Listen, when I had my little…chat with Delgado yesterday, he told me in no uncertain times to keep out of the investigation."

Henry sighed. "You told me that earlier, Shawn. Come to the point."

Already, Shawn felt his temper rise again at his father's grumpy reply, but he fought to keep it in check.

"He also said that he had his eyes and ears everywhere, and that he'd know if I even went to the police station again."

"So? If you stuck to what Karen told you, you had no business being in the police station at all. I don't see where the problem is."

Shawn sighed. "I got my bike from the station this morning."

Again, all he heard from the other end of the line was silence and static. "Dad, I got a call just a few minutes ago. Somehow Delgado got wind of me being in the police station, totally misinterpreted it and now is making good on this threat."  
"What threat?" Henry's voice was strangled. "You didn't say anything about a threat earlier. Damn it, Shawn, when will you finally…forget it. It's not as if a lecture now had any chance of success. So what was the threat?"

"To publicly expose what he told me – that he paid you off. He said he had proof."

For a few long seconds there was silence, then all Shawn heard was the dial tone. Frowning, he pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at it as if it was a vicious little creature.

"He hung up on me", Shawn said, disbelief evident in his voice. "He just hung up on me like that."

"Well, see it that way: it could have been worse."

Shawn turned towards Gus and raised both eyebrows. "And what is that supposed to mean?"

Gus merely shrugged. "I'm just saying. And think about it, he could have yelled."

Shawn slowly nodded his head and put the phone back on its cradle. "Yes, he could have yelled."

And deep down inside, the fact that his father had not yelled at him like he usually did was pretty disconcerting.


	8. Tabula Rasa doesn't mean you have to do

**Chapter 7 – Tabula Rasa doesn't mean you have to do the dishes**

In the end, Shawn ended up brooding about the developments of the past day for the entire remaining afternoon. In the end he pulled the flip-chart into the middle of the office and started to sum up what they had so far, just to get his thoughts in order.

Richard Berger was murdered and found in the marina. No witnesses. Somehow, he had been connected to Ricardo Delgado, Lorenzo's son. How, Shawn didn't know.

Berger's roommate, Darren O'Leary might be involved with Delgado as well, but that Shawn wasn't sure about. To him, the man hadn't seen like the brightest light, but he couldn't be sure.

And either O'Leary had told Delgado about Shawn's involvement in the case after his and Gus' visit to the apartment, or somebody in the police department had tipped the mob-boss off.

Neither possibility seemed appealing to Shawn, but there was no way for him to figure out which of the two was true.

But maybe he had started looking at this whole thing from the wrong angle. It had been Delgado who had kidnapped him, and it had been Delgado who was threatening his father, but it had not been Delgado who had been the initial connection between the murder case and organised crime. Well, not this Delgado, anyway.

Ricardo Delgado was the one who was tied to Berger in some way, so it might not hurt to take a closer look at the guy.

Gus left the office later in the afternoon for another rescheduled meeting with a client, and Shawn booted up his computer. He logged onto the internet, searched his browsing history for the newspaper archives he had used the previous day and typed "Ricardo Delgado" into the search field.

And man, that guy was a lot more stupid than his Dad.

Two hours of online research brought forth a long list of results, Little Ricky's rap sheet reconstructed from newspaper articles and openly accessible court files.

Mafioso junior had been arrested for the first time at the age of sixteen on a DUI charge, and had gotten off with a strict warning, some social work and a hefty fine. It hadn't been his last arrest, or the last charge brought against him. The older he got, the more Shawn got the impression that Little Ricky wanted to be involved in his Dad's business badly, but that he really wasn't bright enough to keep it all up the same way his father did. Shawn wondered how Delgado had arranged for his succession, he just couldn't believe that he would want Ricky to take over one day and mess up a life's work of organised crime within months. And Little Ricky definitely didn't seem intelligent enough _not_ to mess it up.

Not that he had ever taken the fall for anything serious, that had always been others. Ricardo had served time, two years at the age of twenty-eight for dealing in stolen car parts, and from what the newspaper articles said he had left such a detailed paper trail on that one that it turned out to be a slam dunk for the DA. Not much Daddy could do for junior there but to get him a good lawyer who kept the jail time at a minimum. Ricardo had been out of prison on probation after a little more than twelve months, and after that Daddy seemed to have ruled with a much stricter hand.

Now age 39, Delgado junior hadn't kept a clean slate, no more investigations that were focussed solely on him, and no more convictions. Shawn didn't want to imagine just how disappointed Delgado senior had to be. The man took thirty years to build up a flourishing ring of organised crime in Santa Barbara, and his own son stupidly nearly ruined it time and again, just because he wanted to have his cake and eat it, too.

Well, maybe that was it, Shawn thought mirthlessly. Maybe the so far elusive connection between Delgado and his father was simply that the two were disappointed in their sons. That might just be it, Henry Spencer and Lorenzo Delgado getting together for a couple of beers, chatting about their personal disappointments: the son who didn't want to be a cop and the son who was too stupid for organised crime. Shawn snorted. Yeah, right.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Head Detective Carlton Lassiter wasn't having a good day. In fact, he didn't have a good week, and all was thanks to Spencer. Again.

First the _psychic_ had once again involved himself into an investigation he had no business involving himself in. But a vision about the Berger murder had overcome him. Right. And of course, though Lassiter had no idea how he did it, Spencer had once more managed to point out just the one little thing they had been missing to keep the investigation going.

Though Lassiter could have done without that, come to think of it. Investigating Lorenzo Delgado was just the thing that made his week. Delgado was a thorn in the side of every policeman in this city, but neither the SBPD nor the Feds had ever managed to find enough proof against him for a conviction. Not once, in over twenty years. It was frustrating.

And now Delgado was tied to their most recent murder case, and Lassiter didn't get his hopes up about solving this one if Delgado was truly involved. The man was a miracle worker as far as wiping his traces were concerned, but still Lassiter had forensics go over everything found at the crime scene again and again, with a fine-toothed comb. If Ricky Delgado was involved, that might give them a break. The son was nowhere near as smart as the father, he was bound to slip up sooner or later. Nevertheless, this investigation had to be done by the book, to the letter. If they found any form of proof, Lassiter wanted to make sure right from the start that they'd be able to use it in court. If they got anything, Delgado would not worm his way out of it due to a technicality. Not on Lassiter's watch.

Which was why Lassiter was quite glad that Spencer hadn't shown up in the station again since his vision about the Berger case. True, the Chief had made it clear that Spencer was not to be involved, but in all honesty, when had that stopped the man before?

But Lassiter wasn't complaining. The less he had to deal with Spencer, the better. And besides, the man had managed to cause a stir even if he wasn't physically present. With a shudder he remembered the uproar the previous day, when Spencer's bike had been found near the interstate. Not to mention how his colleagues, seasoned policemen and –women had reacted to the man's disappearance. Those people, really. The man had been missing for a bit more than two hours, and everybody here had gone stir-crazy. O'Hara had been checking in with the patrol cars every ten minutes, Chief Vick had started phoning hospitals and morgues, and Spencer's father had called only to have somebody else to yell at, now that his son was missing. Really, it wasn't as if the man was a four-year old. Though his behaviour at times suggested that as far as his mental state was concerned, that estimate might not be too far off.

At least Lassiter prided himself in having kept a cool head during the two hour Spencer scare. He had tackled the whole thing systematically and calmly, figuring that if he wasn't in any hospital or the morgue, if nobody had called in the accident, and if he wasn't available on his cell phone, Spencer had would turn up again sooner rather than later with a ridiculously simple explanation for all this. And of course he had. Just like Lassiter had predicted.

Though, Lassiter had to admit, he had been a little worried. Worried that if Spencer had somehow managed to off himself, he'd never get the chance to yell at him for locking him in the Records Room. Because, honestly, who else could have done that? Brooms just didn't lodge themselves in front of doors, the phenomenon called gravity took care of that. No, he and Spencer would have a talk about that particular episode as soon as he saw the man again. Which, if he had his will, could wait for a few more days.

Closing the file he had been working on, Lassiter picked up the stack of mail on his desk and began to sort through it. Separating the envelopes into neat little stacks according to their concern and who they came from, he frowned at the last envelope he was left with. It was addressed to "SBPD/ Internal Affairs Division", and it bore no stamp. Strange, he thought with a frown, but dismissed the thought quickly. It wasn't the first time that somebody in the mail room misplaced an envelope and it ended up on the wrong stack of mail.

He had another witness interview to focus on in ten minutes, so Lassiter put the envelope in his out-box, from where in-house mailing would deliver it to IA at some point in the afternoon, then he got up to grab a cup of coffee before starting the interview.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

That night, Shawn got more undisturbed sleep than in the two previous nights combined. He still didn't feel well rested as he got up in the morning, but at least his body had had a chance to catch up with what he had missed over the previous days. Baby steps.

Once he was showered and dressed, he sipped his cup of early-morning-pick-me-up coffee to get his head up to speed with his body and tried to make a plan for the day.

He couldn't show up in the police station, that much was clear. He didn't think Delgado was watching him, he had seen nothing suspicious the previous day on his way home in the afternoon. But that meant Delgado truly had somebody keeping their eyes open at the station, and if he showed up there, the mob-boss would surely get wind of it. No use in risking anything, not if he didn't even know what the results of yesterday's phone call would be.

Gus was working today, and Shawn had no desire to drag him out of there today, not if it wasn't necessary. So he was on his own, and there wasn't much recon he could do with his bike. Staying inconspicuous on a motorcycle was difficult.

So what to do? He could try and go talk to O'Leary again, try to figure out whether or not he was connected to Delgado. But that was too risky right now, if O'Leary was in on whatever had been going on between Berger and Ricky Delgado, then Delgado sr. would get to know immediately that Shawn hadn't stopped investigating the case. And he wanted to avoid that.

So what was he supposed to do? Just sit around and wait until the police cracked the case? Fat chance of that happening.

The ringing of his phone tore him out of his musings. Checking the display to see who was calling him, he noticed with a frown that it was Chief Vick. Shawn answered.

"Hello?"

"Mr. Spencer, Chief Vick here."

"Good morning Chief. How can I help you?"

He heard Vick draw a breath.

"Could you maybe come down to the station, Mr. Spencer? I don't want to discuss this on the phone."

No. Absolute no go there.

"I'm sorry, Chief, but I'm afraid that's not possible."

"It is important."

Shawn shook his head, though the Chief couldn't see. "I'm sorry, I just can't." Not if somebody will tell Delgado that I was there, and next thing I know that bastard is after Gus. Or Jules. Or even Lassie. "Can't you tell me what it is over the phone?"

A sigh was all the answer he received at first, then some moments of silence while Chief Vick made up her mind. "All right. I've just received information that early this morning, a warrant was served."

Shawn frowned. "You got a suspect in the Berger case?"

"No, this is totally unrelated. The warrant was served for Internal Affairs. I'm still trying to find out details, but from what I've been able to gather so far, IA received information pertaining your father. They searched his house this morning."

Shawn swallowed, and his breakfast bagel threatened to make a repeat appearance. "What kind of information", he brought out in a voice which he didn't recognise as his own.

"I am not privy to those details. All I know is that they received photographs and documentation, and now they are suspecting him of obfuscation and venality. I don't know on what grounds, or why this turns up now, years after his retirement, but I thought you had a right to know. If your father hasn't informed you of it, that is."

"No, he hasn't", Shawn said distractedly, his mind racing. "I'm sure he has enough on his plate right now. Listen Chief, I've got to go…"

"Mr. Spencer, just one more thing. I have worked with your father on the force, before his retirement. I've never known a more upright cop than him. And while I don't believe that he was involved in any kind of criminal activity, my duty as Chief of the Department is to help IA clear this issue up."

"I understand that, Chief."

"It might not be pretty, for either of you."

"I understand that, too, and I thank you for your concern. We'll be all right."

"I also cannot involve you in any of our investigations until this whole matter is cleared up."

Shawn laughed mirthlessly. "Am I guilty by association?"

"No, Mr. Spencer, nobody is guilty of anything as of yet. But I have to think of the Department's reputation, and the investigation against your father is a big thing."

Shawn sighed. "Thank you for giving me the heads up, Chief."

"You're welcome, Mr. Spencer. Goodbye."

"Bye."

Shawn hung up the phone, lost in thought. He should have expected something like this to happen, but that didn't explain why he was still so shocked. And he had to give it to Delgado, not only did the man make good on his threats, he was also fast.

Had it not been for the events of the past three days, he'd have laughed at anybody daring to claim they had proof of Henry Spencer being a crooked cop. But right now, he was simply scared of what was going to happen next. Scared of what was going to come out next, to be precise.

His conversation with his father the previous day had only served to assure him in two things: first, the money for their holiday had not come from the mob. Second, there was something big his father wasn't telling him about, something bad enough to scare Henry Spencer, and he was worried that this was exactly what Internal Affairs was about to uncover.

There was a connection between Henry Spencer and Lorenzo Delgado, and the knowledge about that connection made the bile rise in Shawn's throat, and he was sure of only one thing: he never again wanted to get to know about the newest developments from Chief Vick. There was only one thing left for Shawn to do – he had to talk to his father again. And this time, he'd not let him get off the hook until he knew everything.

That decision made, Shawn grabbed his keys, wallet, cell phone and helmet and left his apartment.

The drive to his father's house seemed endlessly long, much longer than the previous day even though this time he took the direct route. Shawn Spencer's mind was a scary place to be in on most days, but today all those thoughts whirling around made it even worse than normally. Shawn himself didn't understand half of the thoughts going through his head, he had long ago given up trying to make sense of anything but the most vital things. His father was connected to a mob-boss, and now his father was in trouble. And Shawn didn't even want to imagine what the implications of that whole thing blowing up in their faces would be.

When he finally reached his father's house, he found the truck in the driveway, but his father didn't answer Shawn's knock. Peering through the screen door, Shawn tried to figure out where his father was. If he wasn't home, then why was the truck in the driveway? But all he could see were parts of the living room. Some drawers were still standing open from this morning's investigation, and the place where his father's computer normally sat was empty, but that was all Shawn could discern with the bad lighting and through the reflecting glass door.

With a sigh he straightened up and knocked again, long and loud, then he turned and looked around while he waited.

And froze.

As his gaze went towards the beach and the ocean on the other side of the road, he saw his father. Henry wasn't one for long, solitary walks along the beach, if he wanted to relax he went out on his boat. But Henry wasn't alone, either.

Hurriedly, Shawn jogged down the driveway and crossed the road. But even as he got closer, there was no doubt as to what he was seeing.

His father was standing on the beach, near the water, and he was talking animatedly with somebody Shawn remembered all too clearly. Goon-guy. Antonio, the hitman Delgado had brought along to his little meeting with Shawn. They were clearly arguing, but despite their raised voices they were too far away for Shawn to hear what they were saying.

Both men were talking heatedly at each other, and even at the distance Shawn could see that his father was furious, but Goon-guy didn't seem fazed by whatever Henry had to say. Finger pointed at Henry's chest, he shouted a few short sentences as Henry, then he turned away and jogged up towards the road on his left, where a black van Shawn knew only too well was waiting at the curb.

Slowly, so that goon-guy would not see him, Shawn crossed the road again, walked up the driveway and sat down on the front stoop.

Henry came up the driveway a few minutes later, so lost in thought that he only noticed his son sitting on the steps in front of his house when he nearly fell over him. Shawn got up and looked at his father, not knowing what to say. Henry stared right back at his son for a few endless seconds, not moving or speaking, then with a defeated sigh he brushed past Shawn and unlocked the door.

Not waiting to see whether his Dad would invite him in or slam the door in his face, Shawn followed Henry into the house. Still not saying a word, Henry went into the kitchen, poured himself a glass of water from the tap and started to drink it. Shawn leaned against the doorframe and just watched his father for a moment.

"What is going on, Dad?"

Henry finished the water and put the glass away.

"You know perfectly well what's going on, Shawn. Don't tell me that Karen didn't call you."

"She did. But that's not what I mean."

Henry ran a hand over his short hair. "Well, if Karen called you, then you know everything that is going on. This morning, IA stood in front of my door with a warrant, seized all financial documentation they could find, took my computer and cordially invited me to an interview tomorrow morning, to discuss their findings in the seized material."

"They say why the opened that investigation so quickly?"

Henry shrugged. "Well, my guess is that somebody tipped them off to take a closer look into me, and that somebody must have been pretty convincing. Thank you for that, Shawn."

"No, no, no." Shawn pushed himself off the doorframe and stepped towards his father, finger pointed at him. "You're not going to blame that one on me. For the first time I can remember, I've done everything others asked of me. Chief Vick asked me to stay off the case and I did. You asked me to stay away from Delgado and I did. I was just getting my bike from the station, that's all there was to it."

"What about that file you stole?"

"That's not the point, Dad. Nobody even knows I was anywhere near that Record Room that day. Well, nobody except for officer Allen, but she thinks I was possessed. Officially, I was just getting my bike back. And just for the record, if you hadn't clammed up about that IA investigation, I'd have never needed to get that file the hard way in the first place. And stop changing the topic, this whole IA investigation is not what I came here to talk to you about."

Colour was rising up on Henry's throat, a sign Shawn knew to mean that his anger was rising. Well, Shawn preferred dealing with an angry Henry. He had learned how to play that game from an early age on. It was the silent, spooked and brooding Henry that scared him.

"Shawn, if you have come here to toss around stupid accusations about me being a crooked cop, then you might as well just leave again. I really have more important things to deal with right now."

"I haven't come to accuse you of anything, Dad. But I'm not going until I've gotten some answers, all right? I won't let you dodge around anymore."

Henry crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Oh no, you won't? Well, that should be interesting."

"You can bet it will be. And why don't we start with the question what you were doing just now, talking to one of Delgado's goons down at the waterside?"

Henry's facial expression didn't change. "And how would you know just who it was I was talking to right now?"

"Wow, that's a tough one, Dad. Let me think. Maybe because it was exactly the same guy who seemed to have a lot of fun using me for a punching bag two days ago, which by the way made it a bit more than just disconcerting to watch him chat with you just now."

The anger vanished from Henry's face from one moment to the next, and was replaced by something different, something far softer. Shawn found it a little disturbing.

"That was the guy who roughed you up?"

"Yes. And if you had taken a little time during your little chit-chat to take a closer look at his hands, you might have matched them to the fist-sized bruises on my ribcage! So what was he doing here?"

"It's none of your business, Shawn!"

Shawn made move to cross his arms in front of his chest, but when he noticed that he was about to assume the same position his father was standing in, he dropped his arms to his sides and started pacing the kitchen angrily.

"Dad, this is getting us nowhere. We're going in circles, and it's giving me a headache. Now, you can pretend all this isn't my business and that you'll take care of it on your own, but fact is Delgado made it my business the moment he had me driven off the road and dragged me into that van. And it's not as if things were going to get away on their own again. So why don't you tell me what the hell is going on here!"

"Nothing at all is going on, all right?"

"No why don't I buy that? Dad, it might have escaped your notice, but I'm no longer ten years old."

"Now really!", Henry yelled and started pacing again. "It's good that you tell me that because from the way you're behaving most of the time, I wouldn't have noticed!"

"Stop changing the subject!"

Henry ran his hands over his face, then straightened up and went out of the kitchen without another word. With an exasperated sigh, Shawn followed his father into the living room.

"Running away, now that's really mature Dad! I'm not going until you've finally told me what is going on! And if you don't tell me what is behind all this soon, I'm just going and find out another way."

"No you won't!"

"Yes I will. I have already stolen that file from the police station, Dad. That should tell you I'm serious about this. So whatever happened back then, you're not going to be keeping this from me for any longer. One way or another, I will find out!"

"No Shawn, you will stay out of this, that's what you'll do!"

Shawn's anger was close to matching his father's, but he struggled hard to keep it out of his voice. If they started a full blown shouting match right now, they wouldn't get anywhere, he knew. Past experience had taught him that when they started yelling at each other, they also stopped listening to what the other said.

Henry started pacing again, running his hands through his hair over and over again, his inner struggle visible.

"Look, you'd really rather have me thinking that you've been a crooked cop than telling me the truth?"

"You are already convinced that I was crooked, aren't you? So what's the difference? The mere thought that my own son thinks me capable of being corrupt is enough to make me want to throw you out of the house and never let you in again, so don't start getting righteous with me, all right?"

"Well, what do you want me to think? I get involved in a mafia case, everybody is telling me to stay out of it – which, just for the record, I did – and the next thing I know is that I get kidnapped by a mob-boss who is telling me you're crooked. Then I find out that Internal Affairs has investigated you for being crooked twenty years ago. You're just as open about all this as a clam, and suddenly Internal Affairs is investigating you again and you're having chit-chats with mafia goons at the waterside. That has to make me suspicious, hasn't it? Vick told me that somebody sent pictures and documents to IA, and how the hell can there be pictures if you never did anything wrong? Now please tell me if there is just one explanation for it that doesn't involve you having a connection to Delgado in anyway!"

"Shawn, I'm fed up with trying to justify myself in front of my own son, all right? I'm your father, you should know me, and if I tell you that this is nothing you need to concern yourself with, that should be enough for you."

Shawn shook his head. "But it isn't. I'm not a kid anymore, Dad. I can't stay out of this because all this falls back on me, as well. So how about you tell me the truth, just for a change."

"I told you the truth, Shawn. It's you who chose to believe Delgado, not me."

"Really. Listen, why should Delgado lie? Why should he make up a story about my father being a dirty cop if there was nothing to it? And all this just happens to coincide with Internal Affairs investigating you, twenty years ago and now. That's just too big a coincidence, isn't it?"

Henry slammed his hand onto the living room table, hard. "Why should Delgado lie? I don't know, Shawn, maybe because he's a criminal? Because he wants you out of the investigation? I had a reason why I told you to stay away from him!"

"Just perfect, I simply knew that it would come back to this. Now you're accusing me of breaking my word because Delgado kidnapped me. I just knew you'd blame that one on me! But speaking of it, if you're already in such an explanatory mood, maybe you could explain why you reacted so badly to me only mentioning Delgado's name in the first place? Do you have an answer for that?"

"Yes, I didn't want you to get involved with a mobster, that's why! Because Delgado is dangerous, that's why. Which he proved by kidnapping you! Do I really need another reason?"

"No, but I think you have one", Shawn snapped back. "This wasn't one of your usual "stay away from the dangerous criminals" lectures. When I said Delgado's name you were spooked. This was something personal, and that Internal Affairs file doesn't make the whole thing any better. All right, so maybe you didn't take money from the mafia, but you can't tell me that you have no idea who in the department did. Is that why you were in the file? Because IA thought you were covering up for someone on the mob's payroll? Something was wrong back then, and if you covered up for a crooked cop out of some stupid sense of cop honour, it's just as bad as working for the mob yourself!"

Something had flashed across his father's face upon Shawn's words. It had been there for the merest fragment of a moment, and Shawn wished he hadn't seen it. But he had, and there was no denying it anymore. He could read his father well enough to know that he had just hit a sore point.

"You _were_ covering up for somebody?", he asked, his voice incredulous. "You were covering up for a crooked cop? Internal Affairs was investigating, and you just kept your mouth shut? Gee Dad, of course that's so much better than taking money from the mob yourself, knowing who does but not telling anybody. Why? Was it someone you knew? One of your partners? One of your poker buddies? Or did you hope that if you kept your mouth shut through the investigation, you'd get a piece of the cake yourself later on? Whatever it was, it puts all those lectures on moral duty and honesty you gave me into a whole different perspective!"

"Shut up!", Henry yelled, and Shawn was momentarily startled enough to obey. His father was pacing again, his face pale from anger, and his eyes blazing with a fury much worse than anything Shawn had ever seen before. Pointing his finger at Shawn, he took a few steps closer to his son.

"Shut up, Shawn. You have no idea what you are talking about, all right? And you don't have the right to pass judgement on me. I never, never once, said that I was flawless. I never said I didn't make any mistakes…"

"Mistakes?", Shawn interrupted. "You're calling that a _mistake_? You were covering up for somebody who was taking money from the mafia. Who was passing information along to the mafia. Who knows how many cases didn't get solved because of that. Maybe Delgado would have ended up in prison if it hadn't been for you and your twisted sense of honour between cops, crooked or not!"

"I said shut up", Henry said, his voice dangerously low and controlled. "You don't know what you are talking about, and for once in your life you'd better keep your mouth shut. I have made mistakes, Shawn. And I have to live with all the mistakes I've made in my life. Contrary to you, I don't run away from them. I face the consequences, and I know why I did what I did. You are definitely not the one to pass judgement on me."

"Oh, you're facing the consequences of your mistakes? Really? I can just imagine how hard it has to be to get up every morning, knowing your name being somewhere in a dusty twenty-year old IA file is a consequence of covering up for one of your buddies. It must be so much harder than finally facing up and telling the truth about who you covered for all those years. Or why you did it. Are you afraid that's all going to come out now, with Internal Affairs re-opening their investigation about you?"  
Henry drew a deep breath and sank down in an armchair. From one moment to the next, he seemed to have aged ten years.

"Shawn, it's useless to have this discussion if you've already made up your mind about what I did and why I did it. Just leave me alone."

Shawn took a step back. "What's that? Change of tactics? No more yelling? Now that's something new."

And suddenly, before Shawn knew what was happening, Henry had jumped off his chair and was towering above him, one finger stabbing Shawn in his chest to emphasize each word.

"Just get off my case, Shawn. Leave me alone with all your accusations. You were nine years old at the time, you have no frigging idea what was going on! I've told you before to keep out of this, but of course you just couldn't. Well, congratulations, now you've found out more than you wanted to, but I'm not sitting here just one minute longer, listening to your righteous rambles about what a bad person I am when you don't know shit about what really went down. If you don't know me enough, if you don't trust me enough to simply take my word on something then just leave me the hell alone!"

Shawn wordlessly stared at his father for some long moments, then he turned away and nodded. "All right, I'll leave. Great job, Dad, I hope you're proud of what you've accomplished today."

And for the second time in as many days, Shawn stormed out of his father's house. Just like yesterday, all he had accomplished had been participation in a world-class shouting match. And just like yesterday, he had the feeling he hadn't gotten just one step closer to figuring out how the pieces of this puzzle fit together.

He got onto his bike and sped out onto the street. At the first intersection he stopped and took a couple of deep breaths. All right, so this hadn't gone well. Scratch that, this had gone totally down the drain. But before he had come here, he had sworn himself not to leave without answers. So he wouldn't leave without answers, even if it meant gong back and confronting his dad again. With a sigh, he turned the bike around and drove back to his father's house.

The screen door was still unlocked, so Shawn silently entered the house again and returned to the living room. His father was sitting in the armchair again, his back to Shawn. He was staring down at something in his hands, and when Shawn stepped around the armchair he saw that it was an old cardboard box, dusty on the cover except for the traces of fingers where it had been opened recently.

Wordlessly, Shawn sat down in the armchair facing his father and waited until Henry raised his eyes and looked at him.

"Shawn, I'm really not in the mood for any more shouting right now."

That was a first in Shawn's experience. But he also had never seen his father looking this…exhausted before. Henry Spencer looked practically deflated as he tiredly sat in the armchair and kept staring at the box in his lap.

"Well, then maybe we should try to get this settled once and for all, without any shouting involved. I know it's a new approach, but after nearly thirty years of failing with the old one we might just give it a shot."

Henry closed his eyes. "Shawn, is there any way I can get you to stay out of this?"

Shawn shook his head. "No. There isn't."

Henry drew a deep breath eyes closed. "I've been trying to keep you out of this for twenty years now, Shawn. All it's ever been about is keeping you out of this."

It felt as if something cold was crawling down Shawn's spine at those words. "What do you mean?"

After a long minute of silent contemplation, Henry handed the cardboard box over to Shawn with a barely audible sigh. Shawn took it, not really knowing what to do with it.

"What is this?"

"This is the answer you wanted to have. Go ahead, open it up before I change my mind."

With a frown, Shawn pulled up the top of the cardboard box and pulled out the contents. For a few moments, the living room was silent except for the sound of Shawn shifting through the contents of the box. He still didn't understand the first thing about what was going on here, and if his father thought that seeing the contents of this box would automatically give him the answers he thought, he was wrong.

"Dad, I don't understand? Those are just photographs. Not exactly photo album quality, but they're just photographs of me. And they're not even good photographs, on most of them you can't even see my face properly."

He put the stack of photographs down and looked up at his father, who was sitting motionlessly on his armchair, eyes fixed on the stack of photographs as if he was unable to tear his eyes away from them.

"It was Parker."

"What was Parker?"

Henry closed his eyes and leaned back in the armchair. However, there was nothing in his posture suggesting relaxation.

"Eric Parker was being paid off by Delgado twenty years ago. Somebody had tipped off IA about somebody in the department being crooked. I don't know who, or how they got to know. Fact is, as a cop, it happens more often than you'd think that you're offered money to turn a blind eye, or to look the other way at the appropriate time. And if you cross that border once, it gets difficult to say 'no' the next time somebody wants to pay you off. It happens all the time. Not always on the scale of a mob-boss buying off cops, but it happens all the time.

When IA started this huge investigation, it as different. There was this Internal Affairs guy who really wanted to be the one to overthrow Delgado by figuring out his informant, and IA dug into everybody's affairs at the department. When they didn't find out who was on the mob's payroll, they just kept digging. It didn't really help the mood in the department. Everybody was starting to suspect everybody else, it wasn't pretty."

"How come you knew that this Parker was the guy who was working for Delgado?"

Henry rubbed his eyes and sat up straighter. "Pure coincidence. I was driving home from work, stopped at the convenience store to get some stuff for dinner and saw Parker's car parked in a side alley. I figured that it was strange and went to have a look. Parker was meeting with one of Delgado's goons in that alley, and they didn't seem all that hostile to me. On the contrary, they seemed very friendly. They talk for a while, then the goon hands over an envelope to Parker. It was all pretty obvious."

"But you didn't go and tell IA about it."

Henry sighed and shook his head. "No, I didn't. That was the first mistake I made."

Shawn frowned. "But why? If you were so sure that Parker was bought off, why didn't you let IA know?"

"Parker was a veteran cop, Shawn. No, I know what you're going to say, and it had nothing to do with some stupid sense of cop honour. But it's easy to slip into receiving bribes, and hard to get out of it again once you realise just how deeply you're in already. Parker was married, with four kids, and his whole life was going to be ruined once this came out. So I confronted him, told him what I'd seen. I gave him until the end of the week to turn himself in, otherwise I'd do it. I wanted to give him a chance to warn his family about what was going to happen, and I wanted him to have the chance to turn himself in. His career was over, but if he turned himself in, his sentence wouldn't have been as bad as if he'd be found out by somebody else. I confronted him on Tuesday, and I told him that if he hadn't turned himself in until Saturday, I'd go to Internal Affairs."

Shawn leaned forward in his armchair, mind reeling. "But he didn't turn himself in. And neither did you."

"No. Parker and I weren't working the same shifts, so I barely saw him at work. Friday morning I opened the front door to get the paper and found a manila envelope on the porch. Inside were those pictures." Tiredly, Henry buried his face in his hands. "I wanted to give Parker a chance to right at least a little of the wrongs he had been doing. Effectively, I just gave him the time to go to Delgado and figure out a way of how to deal with me." He looked up again. "He found a pretty effective way, I have to give him that. Just look at the pictures. They followed you everywhere."

Shawn didn't particularly want to look at those pictures again, knowing that one of Delgado's men had been following him around for days, snapping photographs without anybody noticing. "But…but I mean if you had gone to Internal Affairs and told them about Parker and Delgado, everybody would have known that somebody was after me. You could have taken me out of school, or not have let me leave the house alone. There would have been ways to make sure he didn't get to me, Dad."

Henry shook his head. "Look again, Shawn."

With a frown, Shawn picked up the stack of pictures again and began to sort through them. His nine year old self on his way to school, in the school yard, in the park with Gus, at the beach, in his parents' front yard, at soccer training. The last two photos stuck together slightly, so Shawn peeled the top one off. As his eyes fell on the last photograph, his heart stopped for a beat and he all but forgot how to breathe.

"Dad?"

But Henry only shook his head. "I don't know when he took that, Shawn. I've been thinking about it over and over again, but I just don't know when he took that picture."

The picture showed Shawn, just like all the others, but this one had not been taken outside during day. It was a picture of Shawn in his bedroom, fast asleep in the middle of the night. The alarm clock on his bedside table read 3.30, and with a strange detachment Shawn noticed that the one leg that was sticking out from underneath the blanket was clad in his favourite race-car pyjamas. He had all but forgotten about those pyjamas until now. But he just didn't understand how that could be.

"Dad, how did they get that picture? I mean, how on earth could they get a picture of me in my own bedroom without me noticing?"

Henry sighed tiredly. "Shawn, you slept through an earthquake once. I'm not really astonished that you didn't notice somebody taking a picture of you in your sleep." Suddenly, he got up from his chair and started pacing the living room again. "But _I_ should have noticed. Damn it Shawn, one of Delgado's henchmen broke into my house at night, went into my son's bedroom and took a picture of him, and I didn't notice just one bloody thing! Delgado didn't need to send all those other pictures to warn me off, that one picture would have been enough! That picture says he could get to you, anywhere, no matter what I did. That's the most horrible threat one could send to a father. It was my task to protect you, and all it took was one picture to tell me that I couldn't. Instead of snapping that damn picture, the guy could have done anything to you, and I wouldn't have been able to stop him until it was too late."

Now Shawn at least understood why his father always locked the doors, even when he was at home. But he still couldn't wrap his mind around the whole thing.

"So you kept your mouth shut, which went against everything you believed in and against everything you ever taught me because Delgado sent you those pictures?"

"No!" Henry was getting angry again, but this time Shawn wasn't so sure whether that anger was directed towards him. Somehow, he doubted it.

"I didn't tell IA about Parker because of what Delgado said with those pictures. Not that he'd ever do anything to incriminate himself, but if he had harmed you in any way, if he had kidnapped you or anything, ironically this situation would have been much easier to deal with. I'd have wasted no time involving the Captain and the rest of the department to find you and bring Delgado down. But now I just couldn't. No matter what I did, if Delgado got wind of me ratting out on Parker, he'd get to you. And those pictures said he'd get to you anywhere, and I couldn't do a damn thing to protect you."

He sighed and looked around the room as if searching for something to throw. "I had been a cop for over fifteen years then. Never took a bribe, never betrayed what I believed in. I know that not telling IA about Parker was a mistake, Shawn. It's a mistake I regret more than anything in my life, because I betrayed everything I believed in. Delgado knew I couldn't be bought off, but he knew that there was one sure way to get to me. Don't you understand that, Shawn? When I decided not to tell Internal Affairs anything I sold myself out. It was just as bad as taking money, maybe even worse. I sold out everything I believed in, and Delgado knew exactly that there was only one person I'd do that for. You. That's why he sent those pictures, because he knew that threatening you was the only way to get me to do his bidding. And he knew he had to threaten you in a way that left keeping my mouth shut as the only option. If he had hurt or harmed you in any way, I'd have hunted him down. I wouldn't have cared about anything else. He knew that. But he threatened you and let me know in no uncertain terms that I couldn't protect you. Not from him. And that was what it took for me to sell out my soul."

Shawn sank back in his chair with a sigh. Whatever he had expected to come out of this whole thing, this certainly hadn't been it.

"So you kept quiet about Parker."

Henry nodded. "Yes. I know that Internal Affairs had him amongst their suspects, and I also know that they started to suspect me. But I didn't care. Because as long as I kept my mouth shut, you were safe."

"Did Delgado ever contact you again? Did he ever use that threat against you again?"

Henry sighed. "No, he didn't. I was horribly afraid that he would use threatening you to make me his puppet on a string, but he didn't. I don't know what I would have done, when I would have snapped. But he didn't ever contact me again. Not until today."


	9. Natural Fertilizer hitting Ventilation

**Chapter 8 – Natural Fertilizer hitting Ventilation Device**

Something caught in Shawn's throat. "What happened today?"

Henry sank back down in his armchair, exhausted and defeated, and shrugged. "You basically saw what happened. Delgado sent one of his goons to give me a little advice on how I'm supposed to behave myself during the investigation."

"He…what did he say would happen if you didn't do what Delgado wants?"

Henry laughed mirthlessly. "He reminded me how easy it was for them to find and take you a couple of days ago. Subtle, for Delgado, but his meaning was clear."

"He threatened me again."

Henry nodded. "Yes. He threatened you again."

"But I'm no longer nine years old."

Henry looked up at his son, startled. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Dad, I don't know what would have happened twenty years ago if you had acted differently. Basically, it doesn't even matter anymore. Not right now, at least. But I'm no longer the little kid you need to protect. I won't let you get caught up in that again."

"Shawn, I don't care if you're nine, twenty-nine or sixty-nine years old. You're my child, and if Delgado threatens you, I'll take that seriously."

"Yes. But I won't sit by and allow him to ruin your life and reputation. Do you want Internal Affairs to come to the conclusion that you're guilty? Do you want them to stop paying your pension? Do you want to go to jail because they think you're working for the mafia? Well, I don't want that to happen and I won't allow that to happen. It's that simple."

"Oh really? Then tell me, what are you going to do next?"

Shawn got up and slowly started walking up and down the room. "I don't know yet. Somehow, I need to figure out the Berger case. If Delgado doesn't want the police to get to the bottom of it so badly, then there has to be something in it which could seriously incriminate him. I only need to find out what it is."

"Shawn, no matter what you know now, I still don't want you to get involved with the mob. No chance of that."

"But somehow we need to figure out what happened. Maybe I should go and talk to Parker. He's had twenty years to think about what he did back then, maybe he just needs a little prompting to make a statement against Delgado."

Henry shook his head. "Parker is dead. IA closed the investigation later that year because they couldn't justify the manpower compared to the results. It was obvious that whoever was working for Delgado was keeping a low profile, the investigation had made them careful. So IA closed the case. Five months later, Parker was killed. He was found dead after his wife reported him not coming home for the night. A patrol car found him in up in the hills, shot in the head with a small calibre bullet. They never found the killer."

"Delgado?"

Henry shrugged. "I guess. Maybe Parker was spooked by the IA investigation and wanted to get out. Maybe Delgado figured he was too much of a risk to be kept alive. I'm fairly sure that Delgado had him killed, but as usual there was no single piece of evidence that could tie Delgado to Parker's murder. It's still an unsolved case."

Shawn sighed. "So we won't get any help from Parker."

"No, I doubt we will."

"What about Internal Affairs?"

That brought a frown to Henry's face. "What about them? You want to go to IA and ask them for help? I doubt that would be a good idea."

Shawn shook his head. "No, that's not what I mean. But after seeing me at the station yesterday, Delgado sent them something, according to Vick it was photographs and documents. Do you have any idea what those could be?"

Henry shrugged. "I don't know for sure. But I might have an idea."

"What?"

"Well, when I found those pictures in front of the door, I…I kinda lost it. I don't think I've ever been so scared and yet so angry at the same time. Without thinking things through, I took the envelope, got into the truck and drove to Delgado's office. You know, that delicacy import building he has on Bowers Street."

Shawn nodded. He had driven past that building without thinking much about it more than once.

"That was my second big mistake. I'm sure Delgado would never send IA anything to incriminate himself, but even back then he had surveillance all over the building. When I finally got through to Delgado, all he did was laugh at me. He didn't say one single word about the pictures, didn't even admit that he had anything to do with it, but the look in his eyes was enough for me to know. But before I was even let through to Delgado, I met up with a whole lot of unsavoury characters he employed. I think that taking any image of me talking to known organised crime goons, manila envelope in hand, from the tapes of the surveillance cameras is enough to make IA suspicious. I don't know what other documents he could have sent IA. I never took money from anybody, I don't know what documents could possibly incriminate me. But I think combined with some undoubtedly real pictures of me in civilian clothes, talking to mob criminals, is enough to raise suspicion. He probably added some forged paper trail which I'll never be able to prove is forged. I'll know more about that tomorrow, they're bound to tell me during my interview."

Shawn didn't know what to think anymore. For the first time in his life, he felt as if his brain was shutting down due to information overload. He needed time to think, needed to figure out what he could do to bring this whole thing to a halt.

He stopped his pacing up and down the room and looked at his father. "I think I'll go back to the office. There has to be something about the Berger case that we can use to get to Delgado, I just need to figure out what it is."

"Shawn, I don't know if that's a good idea. Delgado knew immediately when you went to the police station. I wouldn't put it past him to have you under surveillance. If he thinks you're getting too close to something he doesn't want you to know, he'll make good on his threats. I don't want you to take that risk."

Shawn shook his head. "I won't go to the station, Dad. I'll just make a couple of calls, see what I can unearth. I won't give Delgado any reason to suspect anything."

Henry sighed deeply. "I still don't like it."

"I know. But I like the thought of your life being ruined because of a mob-boss even less. You can't talk me out of this, Dad."

Another defeated sigh was all the answer he got, but before his father could get it into his mind to try and talk him out of this again, Shawn grabbed his helmet and left the house.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Shawn was sure that nobody had followed him on his way to the office. He had kept his eyes open despite all the thoughts that tried to distract him, had checked his rear-view mirror more often than he normally did, and had taken notice of all other cars that stayed on the same road as him for more than one street block. But there had been no suspicious vehicle, no suspicious people lingering around, so he was fairly sure that Delgado wasn't having him followed.

All right, that was one good thing. Not good enough for Shawn to go down to the police station, but good enough for him to feel at least a little calmer.

Once in the office, Shawn caught himself locking the door behind him. Was he getting as paranoid as his Dad was about this whole thing now? He didn't know, but he also didn't have the time for any self-reflection right now.

There was a container of sliced pineapple in the fridge, and Shawn pulled it out and carried it over towards his desk. He hadn't eaten since breakfast this morning, so the pineapple would have to do for now.

When the container was empty, Shawn picked up his phone and dialled a number on his speed dial. The phone was answered on the third ring.

"Detective O'Hara."

"Jules! Just the detective I wanted to talk to."

There was silence on the other end of the line, as if Juliet was making sure that nobody was listening on their conversation. When she spoke again, her voice was noticeably lower than before.

"Shawn, I really shouldn't be talking to you."

"I know. I take it you heard about my Dad?"

"Yes. Not that I believe just one word of it, but Chief Vick was pretty clear on the matter of talking to you."

Shawn realised that everybody else seemed to have no problems believing immediately that his father to be innocent. Everybody but him, it seemed.

"Sorry Jules, I don't want to get you into any trouble. I guess I just wanted to check in for a moment, hear a friendly voice and all that. I don't think I'd be welcome at the station right now."

"I'm not at the station, Shawn. Listen, there has been another murder. O'Leary is dead, he was found shot in the park earlier today. You'll probably hear it in the news later, anyway. I have to get back before Lassiter comes looking for me. Shawn, I know that you want to be involved, but this is getting out of hand. So just for once, stay back and wait until this whole thing has blown over, if it's truly Delgado behind those murders you don't want to be involved. All right?"

Shawn smiled at the notion of worry in her voice. "All right Jules. Tease Lassie for me, will you?"

"No, I won't. He's in a foul mood. Bye Shawn."

"Bye Jules."

After she disconnected, Shawn leaned back in his chair and stared up at the ceiling. So O'Leary was dead. Well, that was interesting. It meant that he had probably been in on whatever it was that had tied Berger to Ricky Delgado. But Shawn just didn't believe that the man was clever enough to be involved in organised crime, even that low on the food chain. It just didn't really make sense.

Most days, Shawn's mind worked on a different plane than that of most other people. That was why a lot of people had problems following his trains of thought, no matter how logical they were. But it was also the reason why it was also easy for him to get lost in his own mind. Which was why he and Gus were such a perfect team. Gus kept Shawn grounded when his mind started drifting off. And right now, he definitely needed a little grounding.

Shawn picked up the receiver again and dialled Gus' cell. The phone didn't even ring but went straight to voicemail. Shawn knew that Gus was probably talking to a customer right now, so there was no use in calling his landline. Instead, he decided to leave a message.

"Hey dude, it's me. Listen, I talked to my Dad, and I think I know what's going on now. Well, most of it, anyway. Not that I have any idea what to do about this whole thing now. I could really use someone to bounce some ideas off. So, I'm guessing you're talking to one of the doctors on your route now, how about you just give me a call or drop by the office once you're finished. I'll be here. Bye."

He hung up the phone and leaned back in his chair again. Now all he could do was wait and think. And he had a lot to think about.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Two hours later, Shawn decided that thinking hurt his head, and that while pineapple was definitely the most superior of all fruits, its one big deficit was that was a poor substitute for lunch. So he set out to the sandwich shop a block down. With his turkey on rye wrapped up and a pineapple smoothie in his hand, he returned to the office twenty minutes later, only to find Juliet waiting nervously on the doorstep of the office, takeaway cup in her hand. Seeing him, she smiled, but the smile didn't reach her eyes.

"Jules, hello. I didn't expect you to be here."

"Hey Shawn. Could we maybe go inside? I'm not supposed to be here at all, and I'm worried that somebody might drive by and see me."

"Sure." Shawn unlocked the office door and let Juliet in before closing up after himself again. He really was letting his Dad's paranoia get to him.

"What's up?", he asked as Juliet leaned against the edge of a desk.

"I just thought I'd drop by. We've finished at the O'Leary crime scene, and I wanted to see how you're holding up. Oh, and I brought you a smoothie. Pineapple. But I see you already have one."

Shawn smiled. "One can never have too many smoothies, Jules. Thank you. And thanks for dropping by."

"I just wanted to see for myself that you're all right."

"I'm fine, thanks. Internal Affairs had a warrant for my Dad's financial records, but we won't know more about it until tomorrow."

"How is he holding up?"

"All right, I think. It's hard to tell with him sometimes. But he'll be fine."

Juliet smiled. "I'm sure he will be. I just can't imagine him ever doing anything wrong. Not the Henry Spencer I've heard so much about."

Shawn didn't want to go into a deep discussion about his father's involvement with the mafia right now.

"Yeah, it'll probably blow over. At least I hope so. Jules, is there anything you can tell me about the O'Leary murder?"

"Why, do you have a feeling about it?"

Shawn shrugged. "I'm not sure. I mean, I'm not getting anything. But they were roommates, so thinking those cases might be connected is not too far off."

"Yes, that's what we thought as well."

"Thought?"

Now it was Juliet's turn to shrug. "There's simply no evidence suggesting they are. Of course the thought that Delgado is behind all this is not that far off, but he's also great at wiping his traces. So even if they are connected, we might never find proof for that."

"Maybe you should take a closer look at Delgado's son. He was the one who was in contact with Berger."

Juliet nodded. "We are on to him. But while Little Ricky is definitely a lot more sloppy than his father, Daddy rules him with an iron hand. Delgado knows that his son is prone to blow the whole family business into nothingness, that's why he's keeping his own kid as small as possible. Little Ricky only has small responsibilities of his own, and even those his father keeps controlling out of fear that his son screws things up. So he'll take extra care that nothing in those murders can be tied back to either of them."

Shawn took a deep drag of his smoothie. "I figured that was it."

"All we have so far is that O'Leary was killed some time last night, shot twice in the chest. He was shot in the park, where he was found, different gun than the one Berger was shot with. That's all we have so far, I just wanted to check in with you while we wait for the forensics report. I need to get back to the station, I told Lassiter I was getting lunch."

"Thanks for keeping me in the loop."

Juliet smiled at Shawn. "Welcome. Just keep out of the case, just this once. If Carlton finds out that I told you the little we know, he'll have me busted back to traffic cop."

Shawn smiled. "Promise."

Juliet smiled again, then, after a little moment of hesitation, made a step forward and wrapped her arms around Shawn. With a small sigh, Shawn leaned into the embrace, resting the side of his face on top of Juliet's hair for a moment.

"What was that for?", he asked, a little dazedly, as Juliet withdrew from the embrace some long moments later. Again, she flashed a smile at him.

"I just figured that you needed a hug, what with all that's going on."

"Well, I'll just have to get involved with the mafia more often, if that's what it takes."

"Don't you dare. It doesn't take mafia involvement to earn a little hug to get morality up again. For Carlton, the end of his lucky streak on solving cases was enough."

Shawn grimaced. "Eugh, you've hugged Lassie? With the same arms you used to hug me? Well, thank you ever so much for that mental image, Jules!"

Juliet flashed him a grin and pulled out her car keys. "Just so your head doesn't get too big. Bye Shawn, we'll be in touch."

"Bye Jules. And thanks again!"

Jules left and headed back to the station, and Shawn could finally devote himself to his sandwich. He was nearly through with it when he saw his father's truck drive into the parking space directly in front of the office. With a frown, Shawn wolfed down the rest of his turkey on rye and finished up his smoothie. Juliet's smoothie was still standing untouched on the desk, but then again it was always good to have a smoothie in reserve.

Henry entered the office just as Shawn tossed the paper his sandwich had been wrapped in into the basketball hoop on the wastepaper basket.

"Hey Dad."

In fact, Shawn was surprised to see his father here. Henry, too, didn't seem all that comfortable being in his son's office, especially after the excesses of shouting and revelations they had been through during those past hours.

"Anything wrong?", Shawn asked as his father came into the room and leaned against Gus' desk without saying a word. Henry shook his head.

"No. I was just going stir-crazy at home. I've got some shopping to do, and thought I'd drop by on my way to the supermarket."

Shawn smiled. "And just maybe you were curious as to what I've been up to."

Henry returned the smile, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Maybe. So, what have you been up to those past hours?"

Shawn shrugged. "Not much. I talked to Jules, though. Detective O'Hara?"

Henry nodded. "I know her, Shawn, Remember?"

"Yeah. Well, anyway, I talked to her earlier. Seems that Darren O'Leary was killed some time last night. Shot in the park."

Henry crossed his arms in front of his chest with a frown. "O'Leary?"

"Richard Berger's roommate. I'm still convinced that there is something between Berger and Delgado junior which was the reason why Berger was killed. Now the question is how O'Leary is tied into all this."

Henry nodded. "Whether he was killed because he knew about whatever it was Berger's murder was supposed to bury."

Shawn nodded. "That's what I figure, yes. The problem is, I don't really know why O'Leary was killed if he wasn't somehow involved in the whole Berger case. I just can't explain that."

"Oh, but there is an explanation, it's just one I wouldn't want to be the true reason for his murder."

"And what would that be?"

Henry rubbed a hand over his head once more. "That Delgado is tying up his loose ends. He wanted to keep whatever Berger knew about or was involved in quiet, so he had him killed. Then he realises that Berger has a roommate, doesn't want to run the risk that Berger told him something, and offs him as well."

Shawn frowned. "But if he was tying up his loose ends, then why would he send his goon to talk to you, nothing else? He kills a guy because he _thinks_ he might know something, but he _knows_ that you could mean trouble and only sends a guy to warn you off? Doesn't really make sense, does it?"

Henry shook his head. "No, it doesn't. But no matter what is the case, I don't really like either explanation."

"No, I have to agree on that one", Shawn responded with a sigh. But the his thoughts turned towards something else entirely.

"If you say you were on your way to the supermarket, does that mean you're cooking dinner? Because I only had that little turkey on rye just now, and you have to agree that that's not really what you can call nourishing."

Henry chuckled. "No, knowing your constant need for nutrition, I have to agree that a single turkey sandwich can't sustain you through an entire day. How about you close up shop and we go to the supermarket together? I was thinking about steaks for dinner."

"Can I get a candy bar?", Shawn asked in a fake childish voice.

Henry rolled his eyes. "The last thing you need is any additional sugar, believe me. And the last time you asked if you could have a candy bar, you won that darn gift certificate for being the millionth customer and bought nearly all the candy they had. You're not telling me that you've forgotten how you spent the entire night in front of the toilet, puking your guts out?"

"Ah, the glory old days", Shawn said, with a hint of nostalgia in his voice. "All right, let's go get them steaks!"

Enthusiastically, Shawn bounced off his chair and grabbed his keys. He walked towards the front door, and with a shake of his head, Henry started to follow. It was good to see that some of the spring was back in Shawn's steps.

Shawn started walking out the front door, Henry following suit. Dinner plans proved such a welcome distraction from all the things that had happened during the past few days that he found himself looking forward to having dinner with his son. In face, he was so engrossed in planning their dinner that he didn't immediately realise that Shawn had stopped dead in his tracks. Henry very nearly crashed into his son's back and stopped himself only at the last moment.

"Shawn, watch where you're going! I nearly fell over…"

He stopped as he saw that Shawn hadn't just stopped, he had frozen. Before he could even open his mouth to ask what was wrong, Shawn started walking backwards in slow, controlled movements.

"Shawn?"

As Shawn stepped back from the office's front door, Henry saw the two men standing in front of it, effectively forcing Shawn to go back by their presence. Shawn took another step back, and that was when Henry saw the gun one of the men had pointed at his son's chest.

The two men, both in nondescript black suits, wordlessly forced Shawn and his father back into the office and closed the door behind them. All the while, the one in the front kept his gun pointed at Shawn, and it was obvious that the second man was also carrying a gun. As the second man closed the office door and the first still made no move to lower his gun, Henry slowly moved to the side so that he came to stand between his son and the gun.

"Who are you?", he barked out. "What do you want?"

"Shut up!", the guy with the gun barked. "There weren't supposed to be two people here", he said to his partner.

"That's the father", the other man replied. "And it doesn't matter right now, we need to get going, before somebody else comes in here. You know what our instructions were."

Shawn tried to get past his father, but Henry didn't leave him any chance. "Now listen", he said. "I don't really know why exactly you're here, or what you're planning, but whatever it is, you're going to leave my father out of this!"

At that, the guy with the gun started to laugh. "Oh, of course. If you say so, that's what we're going to do. Marco, why don't you take care that they both shut up, right now. We should get going as quickly as we can."

Marco pulled a plastic bag out of his pocket and withdrew a white piece of cloth from it. While his partner continued to hold Shawn at gunpoint, Marco advanced on Henry.

"Just relax, old-timer, and this won't hurt just one bit."

With the gun still pointed at his son's chest, Henry couldn't do anything as Marco pushed the white cloth over his nose and mouth. He held his breath, but nevertheless he noticed the chemical smell of the chloroform emanating from it. He only needed to hold his breath and pretend to be unconscious, then he was at an advantage again. The chemical started to burn in his eyes and Henry closed them, pretending for his body to go slack, when everything started to happen at once. There was the sound of struggling from his right, and he heard his son's voice call out "Dad!", but he couldn't respond, he had to pretend that he was unconscious, and he was still holding his breath, and Marco was still holding the cloth in front of his nose and mouth. The sound of struggling continued, as if Shawn was trying to stop the other guy from drugging him, and then he could no longer hold his breath and drew in a deep lungful of air and chloroform. The last thing he heard before the drug started to work was his son's voice yelling something, then the gun discharged and everything went black.


	10. That's what you get for barging in

**Chapter 9 – ****That's what you get for barging in like that**

Gus hated it when doctors were late for their appointments. He had just spent over an hour waiting for a doctor only to be told that it had been the secretary who had mixed up the time for the appointment, and the doctor had actually been available the whole time while Gus had waited. By the time he had been called into the doctor's office, all his sympathies for the man had vanished and he had shown less than his usual enthusiasm during his ninety-minute conversation with the doctor.

And he had missed his lunch break, only because that secretary had been too busy filing her nails to write down the correct time for their appointment.

Relieved beyond imagination, Gus left the building and switched on his cell phone. One new message. He dialled his voicemail to check it. It was Shawn.

_"Hey dude, it's me. Listen, I talked to my Dad, and I think I know what's going on now. Well, most of it, anyway. Not that I have any idea what to do about this whole thing now. I could really use som__eone to bounce some ideas off. So, I'm guessing you're talking to one of the doctors on your route now, how about you just give me a call or drop by the office once you're finished. I'll be here. Bye."_

Well, if Shawn was in the office, that probably meant that there was also food to be had there. And the fact that Shawn had uncovered something new about what was going on with his father did make him curious. So instead of getting something to eat first, Gus unlocked his car and got in.

Fifteen minutes later, Gus pulled his car up in front of the Psych office. He couldn't use his usual parking slot because Henry's truck was standing there. Well, there surely was a good reason for Henry being at the office when he normally did his best to avoid it, and knowing his friend, Shawn would provide that explanation immediately, and without prompting.

Gus locked his car and went over towards the office doors when he noticed with a frown that the door stood ajar. He silently cursed Shawn's sloppiness and opened the door fully.

"Shawn, leaving the door ajar like that is an invitation for burglars. Besides, what impression does that make on our…clients", he finished lowly as he entered the room and took a look around. The office was in shambles. Well, not so much in shambles but way beyond the degree of Shawn's normal sloppiness. Not the whole office, though, just the area around Shawn's desk. It looked as if the contents of the desktop had been swiped down onto the floor by somebody. Papers were strewn everywhere, the laptop was lying face down right in the middle, and what seemed like a whole pineapple smoothie had been spilled all over the mess.

For a few moments, Gus simply stood there and stared at the mess. Shawn left the office untidy at times, but this was something else. Hesitantly, he made a few steps into the office, careful to look out and see whether whoever had tossed part of the office was still there. As his gaze fell onto the TV in the corner, he suddenly stopped all movement and just stood there, rooted to the spot and staring.

Not taking his eyes off the TV, he slowly pulled out his cell phone and dialled a number on his speed dial.

"Lassiter."

"Detective, it's Burton Guster."

Gus heard a loud sigh. "What is it, Mr. Guster, I'm busy."

"I really think you should come over to the Psych office. Something's happened. I think Shawn is missing, his father maybe too."

"Mr. Guster, I know that it's always been hard for you and Spencer to understand, but we're tying to get some real police work done here. I most certainly won't participate in another round of "Chase the Spencer" right now, no matter which Spencer it is that has taken off this time."

"I really think you need to come over here", Gus repeated, his voice low and sounding not at all like it normally did. "This time, I'm sure it's serious."

"Oh, and why would this time be different than the last time?"

"Because there's a bullet hole in our TV-screen."

And without waiting for Lassiter to answer, Gus disconnected the call. Still in a daze, he kept standing rooted to the spot, staring at the disarray in front of him.

He still stood in the same spot ten minutes later, when Lassiter's car and a black-and-white pulled up in front of the office. A moment later, Juliet and Lassiter came into the office, followed by two patrol officers.

"All right, what happened here?", Lassiter asked, taking in the mess on the floor. As his eyes fell on the bullet hole in the TV-screen, one eyebrow silently rose up.

Gus merely shrugged. "I have no idea. I had a message from Shawn on my voicemail. He asked me to meet here. When I came here, Mr. Spencer's truck was out front, the door was open and I found this mess on the floor. Then I saw the bullet hole there and called you. I didn't touch anything."

Lassiter rolled his eyes. "Not that your prints aren't all over the place, anyway. O'Hara?"

"I'll call forensics. Miller, Sanders, you can start canvassing the neighbourhood, try to find out if anybody has seen anything earlier."

Juliet pulled out her cell to make the call, and the two patrol officers left the office to look for possible witnesses. Lassiter turned towards Gus again.

"All right, Mr. Guster. I want you to walk me through all this once more, and I want you to give me as many details as you can. What did Mr. Spencer want to talk to you about? Did he mention anybody else would be here? Anything else you remember?"

With a sigh, Gus sank down in his own desk chair and pulled out his cell phone to play Shawn's voicemail message to Lassiter.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Henry slowly returned to consciousness, and the first thing he became aware of was that he had a splitting headache. There was also a funny taste in his mouth, but he couldn't quite recall where that came from.

Slowly, he opened his eyes.

Something wasn't right here. He wasn't at home, and neither in any other place he recognised. In fact, it looked as if he was in a warehouse somewhere. But how could that be?

And then he remembered. He had been in Shawn's office and then those goons had shown up. They had drugged him, chloroform, and then that gun had gone off…

Shawn! Fear spiked through Henry and immediately his eyes were wide open. He needed to find Shawn, needed to find out if his son was all right.

Henry was astonished to notice that he wasn't tied up and could move freely. But all the better. He spotted Shawn a few feet away from him, lying on the concrete floor, not moving. As quickly as he could, Henry moved over towards Shawn and turned him onto his back.

There was no blood.

Good.

No blood meant no bullet holes, and as far as his son was concerned, that was a very good thing. Shawn's breathing was deep and regular, and Henry guessed that he was still knocked out by the same stuff those goons had used on him.

"Shawn?"

When no reaction was forthcoming, Henry gently slapped his son's cheek. "Shawn! Come on kid, I need you to wake up."

After a few moments, Shawn grumbled something and turned his head away from his father's hand.

"Shawn, wake up."

"Five more minutes", Shawn mumbled sleepily, and if it hadn't been such a serious situation, Henry might have laughed.

"Now, Shawn!"  
Slowly, first one hazel eye opened and blinked up at Henry, then the other. As he recognised his father's face but not his surroundings, he struggled to sit up.

"Where are we?"

"I have no idea. Are you all right?"

Shawn nodded. "Yeah, I think so. What happened?"

"We were at your office, remember?"

Slowly, as if trying not to aggravate a headache, Shawn nodded. "Yeah. I remember those goons suddenly standing in front of the door as we wanted to leave. One of them had a gun. And then the other one drugged you with something."

"The last thing I heard was you struggling with the guy, and then the gun went off. What happened, Shawn, what on earth were you doing?"

Anger had always been his way of masking his worry, and with Shawn there had been a lot of worry over the years.

This time, Shawn only shrugged and sat up straighter. "I needed to leave something for Gus to find. I asked him to come by the office as soon as he's finished, and if he doesn't find anything suspicious he'll not call Jules and Lassiter. If we want them to find us, we need to help them a little along the way. So I cleared the stuff from my desk. I hadn't planned on the gun discharging, I guess it happened in the commotion when he tried to drug me, too. I think he shot the TV." Shawn's eyes widened. "That bastard shot the TV!"

Henry rolled his eyes. "Yes, that's tragic. My heart goes out for you. Can we get back to the more pressing matters now? Do you have any idea where we are?"

Slowly, Shawn got to his feet and looked around the room. "No. That's not the warehouse Delgado and his goons took me to. This one's a lot smaller."

As Shawn started to walk around the room, Henry felt in his pocket for his cell phone. He was stupid for not thinking about it earlier, and most probably it had been taken, anyway, but still he needed to check. Of course the phone wasn't in his pocket, but Henry felt better for having checked, anyway. He looked up again to see Shawn still busy examining the room, taking in the small, barred window against one wall through which dim light filtered into the room. It was too high to look out through, though, so Shawn walked over towards the cardboard boxes standing in one corner. They were all packed up and wrapped, except for the top one that stood slightly open. Shawn pulled open the flap and peered in, then started rummaging around in it. Henry heard the sound of the filling material being shifted around, but didn't interrupt his son. If Shawn was on a train of thought, he could as well start talking to the walls.

After a minute of rummaging, Shawn squinted at something in the box, then suddenly a grin spread on his face and he withdrew his arm and closed the flap of the cardboard box again.

Grin still plastered on his face, he went back over towards his father.

"What?", Henry asked.

If possible, Shawn's grin widened even more. "Nothing. I just solved the case."

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Lassiter was in a foul mood. Gus had been watching the head detective for the past minutes, and it was obvious that his mood was worse than he had ever seen before.

By the time forensics had arrived at the Psych office, Gus had told Lassiter everything he knew about Shawn's phone message and his plans for the day. Which, he noticed, wasn't all that much. But that was Shawn for you.

The officers who had been canvassing the neighbourhood hadn't really come up with anything useful. Nobody had seen anything helpful. One witness had been able to remember a black van parking right in front of the office door, but could neither remember the make nor the license plate. And since the van had been parked so that it was blocking sight of the door, the man hadn't been able to say anything about what had been going on. So that was a dead end, too.

It had done nothing to better Lassiter's mood, which had been getting darker by the minute. Gus guessed that having to search for Shawn, again, was slowly driving the man crazy. Well, nothing he cold do about that, and Gus also didn't particularly care right now. He wanted to find Shawn and Henry as quickly as possible because he just had the gut feeling that something was wrong. Lassiter's level of comfort didn't matter to him at all compared to that.

Leaving forensics to do their thing in the office, Lassiter and Juliet had taken Gus back to the police station. Right now they were standing in Chief Vick's office, where Lassiter reported what had happened to a very sour looking Karen Vick. After the head detective had finished his report, Vick turned towards Gus.

"Mr. Guster, I will ask you a question now, and I want a simple yes or no answer. Do I make myself clear?"

Gus frowned. "Yes Ma'am."

"Good. Now tell me, did Mr. Spencer stick to my warning and stayed off the Berger case?"

Gus nodded. "Yes. As far as I know he did."

"As far as you know?"

Gus sighed. "Yes, as far as I know."

Chief Vick stared Gus down for a minute, then she sighed. "Listen, Mr. Guster, in case you don't know what is at stake here, let me tell you. If Mr. Spencer involved himself in this case despite my warning, it might very well be that his renewed disappearance has something to do with Lorenzo Delgado. And if that is the case, we need to find him, and fast. So please think again about what you just said."

Lassiter sighed. "Chief, you don't honestly think that Spencer kept himself out of this case just because somebody told him to?"

And at that moment, something inside of Gus snapped.

"I don't need to think about it again, all right? I'm no longer a sixth grader covering up for my best friend! Well, not in this case, anyway. I know that Shawn is annoying the hell out of you most of the time, and I can understand that you're suspecting he didn't follow orders because in all honesty, yes, he normally isn't prone to do that. But all I can tell you is that for once in his life, Shawn did what everybody asked him to do. He stayed out of the case after you told him to, and it's most certainly not his fault that those stupid mafia idiots kept him involved in it against his will."

"What do you mean, Mr. Guster?" Chief Vick's expression was neutral, but her voice was icy, demanding an immediate answer.

Gus sighed. "When he vanished two days ago, it was Delgado who drove him off the road and took him."

Beside Gus, Juliet drew in a sharp breath, and a frown appeared on Lassiter's face.

"Why didn't he tell anybody?"

Gus shrugged. "Because nobody would have believed him that he tried to stay out of it? I don't know. But mostly because Delgado just told him the same thing you told him, too. Stay off the case. And Shawn did. I don't know what happened this afternoon, but maybe we could simply try to find Shawn and Mr. Spencer now, and figure out the details later?"

"Where did Delgado take Mr. Spencer?"

Gus shrugged again. "Warehouse in the East End. He didn't say anything more precise."

Chief Vick sighed. "All right. If you are sure that there is nothing else that would help us find either Mr. Spencer", Gus shook his head "then we need to figure out where he is on our own. Detective Lassiter, has forensics on the office come back yet?"

Lassiter shook his head. "I told them to call as soon as they have something. When we left they were about to extract the bullet from the television, maybe that'll get us a step further."

"The Berger case, what was your conclusion on that one?", Gus suddenly piped up.

"Why do you want to know?", Juliet asked.

"Shawn was convinced that there was more to the Berger case. He…erm, he got a feeling about it. You know." Lassiter rolled his eyes. "Anyway, he was convinced that this case was tied to Delgado. Maybe if you compare the bullets…well, I don't know. It's just an idea."

"Rest assured that we'll compare the bullet to all possible cases, and that includes the Berger and the O'Leary case."

Gus' eyebrows went up.

"O'Leary is dead?"

With a sigh, Vick nodded. "Yes. He was shot sometime last night, his body was discovered in the park this morning."

"That's no coincidence, right?"

"We don't believe so, either. But beliefs don't get us warrants, evidence does. And that is something Delgado is good at – getting rid of evidence. Right, but maybe this time we'll catch a break and find a piece of evidence. O'Hara, I want you to compile a list of buildings and properties owned by Delgado, or by his enterprise. In case we do get a warrant, we need to figure out where to look for them. If Delgado took them, there's something he wanted from them, so he won't kill them straight away. But I don't know how much time we have. Lassiter, go and tell forensics to hurry up. We need results ASAP."

Both Lassiter and O'Hara left the office without another word, Lassiter pulling out his phone as he went. Vick leaned back in her chair with a sigh and looked at Gus.

"You can stay here at the station for the time being, Mr. Guster. No sense in you going out and maybe ending up kidnapped as well. We still don't know why Shawn and Henry were taken. But you will stay out of the way of the investigation, do I make myself clear?"

Gus nodded. "Perfectly, Ma'am."

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

"You just…what?"

Shawn couldn't quite understand why his father looked so outraged. It was all coming together now, couldn't he see?

"I just solved the case. I know why Berger was killed."

Henry shook his head. "Right. That's really great Shawn. I couldn't be any more proud. Now, could we maybe discuss the case a little later, preferably once we're out of here? Which, by the way, is still something we need figure out."

Shawn ran his hand through his hair. "Right. But I don't think we'll be getting out on our own. Window's too high up and barred, and even if we could get past that, it's too small to squeeze through. The only other way out here is the door, and it's locked. From the outside. My guess is with a big fat deadbolt." He pointed at the door. "Or of course somebody might have thought it would be a great interior design to place screws in the door at regular intervals. But my bet is on the deadbolt. Somebody wanted to make this room secure, guarantee that nobody can come in."

"Or out", Henry grumbled, and started pacing up and down the room. "And aside from those boxes, there's nothing in here we could use as a tool. What is in those boxes, Shawn?"

The grin was back on Shawn's face. "Teddy bears."

"Teddy bears."

Shawn nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, teddy bears. Listen, it's really all that simple once you realise how things went down. And it might be of interest to you that Lorenzo Delgado probably has no idea at all that we're here."

Henry's eyebrows went up. "What makes you think that? And who else should have an interest in kidnapping us?"

Shawn drew breath to reply, but was interrupted by the sound of muffled voices in front of the door. A few seconds later, there was the sound of a lock being disengaged, a deadbolt slid back and the door opened. Without thinking, Henry made a few steps to the side and placed himself in front of Shawn, shielding him from whoever was coming through the door.

The first person to come into the room, gun drawn and hanging loosely beside his leg, was one of the goons who had been at the office earlier. The one who had threatened Shawn with a gun. Shawn took a small step to the side himself to be able to look out from behind his father. But he actually didn't need to see who'd be coming through the door behind the goon, he had figured that one out earlier.

So he wasn't surprised to see Ricardo Delgado come strolling into the room. The son was exactly what his father was not. It was as if Shawn had woken up in a parody of the godfather.

Delgado junior was small and heavyset, the custom tailored black suit doing nothing to hide his protruding belly. He was a lot smaller than his father, maybe 5''7, with a wide mouth and bulging eyes that made him resemble a toad. His brown hair was thinning rapidly, and the fact that he had used about a pound of hair gel to comb it over the balding spots was merely ridiculous. The only real resemblance to his father were the eyes, they were the same striking green colour, but the colour was where the similarities ended.

And contrary to his father, Little Ricky was packing heat. The shoulder holster was so visible underneath the suit jacket that Shawn was sure he had not worn it when the jacket had been measured.

Slowly, Little Ricky strolled into the room and with a grin looked both Spencer men up and down. The goon was standing beside him, gun still beside his leg, but it was obvious that it could be pointing at either of them within fragments of a moment if need be.

"Now look what the cat dragged in, Dad", Shawn couldn't help but saying. Immediately, Little Ricky's expression darkened, and Henry pushed at Shawn with his elbow.

"Just for once, keep your mouth shut, Shawn."

"You should listen to Daddy, Shawn. It's not really wise to annoy the man who has the power to decide whether you live or you die."

"That a line from _The Godfather_? _Heat_? _Scarface_? Wait, no, now I got it. I think it was _Finding Nemo_, right?"

"Shawn", Henry hissed as Little Ricky's face visibly darkened with each of Shawn's words.

"That's been enough! One more wisecrack from your side and I'll have my friend Daniel here shoot out your father's kneecaps. Understood?"

His mouth drawn into a tight line, Shawn nodded. Little Ricky seemed to have a really short fuse, that was good to know.

"Now, in case the two of you were wondering what brought you here, well, that would be your own stupidity, Shawn Spencer."

Shawn frowned. "Come again?"

"I thought you had received a clear warning to stay out of this case, hadn't you?"

Shawn suppressed a groan. For one time in his life, he stayed out of a case, and suddenly the whole world thought he had involved himself. Life just wasn't fair.

"I did stay out of it."

Ricky laughed. "Sure you did. That is why that policewoman came to your office to keep you updated, right?"

"Shawn?", Henry asked, a surprised frown on his face.

"She brought me a smoothie, for crying out loud. Just that. She brought me a smoothie."

Henry sighed, but Ricky hadn't heard the exchange. And suddenly Shawn understood that Ricky Delgado wasn't quite as stupid as he seemed to be. He hadn't been watching Shawn, he had been watching the Psych office. That's why Shawn had never noticed a tail, because Ricky had had his office staked out. Probably his apartment, too, not that he had been there all too often lately. Now the question was why Ricky was worried that Shawn wouldn't stay out of an investigation that concerned his father, not Ricky himself. But Shawn already knew the answer to that question.

Ricky just sneered at Shawn. "You just couldn't keep your nose out of it, could you? You just had to be involved in this case, despite the warning my father gave you."

At that, Shawn laughed out loud. Ricky turned to him with a frown on his face.

"You think that's funny?"

"That you kidnapped my father and me? No, that's not particularly funny. But it's funny that you should mention _your_ father."

Ricky raised an eyebrow. "Oh, and why should that be funny?"

"You know very well why that is." Slowly, Shawn brought his right hand up and put his fingers to his temple. Closing his eyes, he pretended to think for a moment. "I get a feeling about this. Your father…darkness…what does that mean…he's in the dark. That's it! Your father is in the dark. He has no idea that you just kidnapped an ex-cop and a police consultant. And you really, _really_ want it to stay that way, because you're afraid."

Ricky laughed. "What the hell should I be afraid of?"

"You're afraid, no you're terrified, that your father is going to find out what you're doing."

Ricky angrily shook his head. "That's bullshit. I'm not afraid, of anything. Most certainly not of my father."

Shawn grinned. "I beg to differ, the spirits tell a whole different story." Not to mention the sheen of sweat that had appeared on Ricky's forehead and upper lip at the mere mentioning of his father. Or the way he was looking around the room, as if expecting his father to materialise out of thin air.

"You are afraid, Ricky, which is why you're in over your head in things you no longer have any control over. Over the course of the past twenty-four hours you've made mistake after mistake, and all just because you wanted to stop your father from finding out."

"Stop me from finding out what?", a new voice said as Lorenzo Delgado stepped into the room, two goons in his wake, and a look that promised instant retribution if the question wasn't answered quickly and satisfactory levelled at his son.


	11. Of fathers, sons, smartmouths, bullets,

**Chapter 10 – Of**** Fathers, Sons, Smartmouths, Bullets, Friends, Detectives and Ensuing Chaos. Oh, and of blood.**

Something angry, furious, which had been lying coiled up and dormant inside of Henry for twenty years now, reared up as he saw Lorenzo Delgado come striding into the room. His first reaction was to strangle the man, then beat him into a bloody pulp until all the anger and terror he had ever been feeling because of that man had vanished.

But Henry couldn't move from the spot. He remained standing rooted just where he was, staring at the mafia boss with a gaze that was colder than ice.

Delgado senior, however, didn't even pay any mind to the two Spencer men. He had his eyes on his son, who seemed to have shrunk a couple of inches since his father had come into the room.

"Pop? What are you doing here?"

"What I am doing here, Ricardo? The question is what you are doing here. I couldn't believe my ears when Marco came to me just now and told me what you were doing. Have you gone out of your mind?"

"But Marco is my man!", Ricky spluttered.

Delgado cut him off with an angry gesture of his hand. "You don't have any men, Ricardo! I let you play gangster because it keeps you occupied. But you're not clever enough to pull off the most simple things, so of course I have people watching out for what you're doing! Do you honestly think I want my life's work go to waste because you can't think things through? And now I want an explanation for why you kidnapped those two, and it better be a good one. Not to mention fast!"

"He…he just couldn't stay out of it, pop. You warned him off that he should stay out of the investigation, but that woman cop came to his office and gave him information. I wanted to help you out on this one. That the old man was there wasn't planned!"

"Jules just brought me a smoothie. A damned smoothie, nothing more!"

But the two Delgado men weren't even listening. Lorenzo watched his son with a disappointed sigh.

"You wanted to help me out by kidnapping a police consultant? And a retired cop? That's hilarious, Ricardo! And on top of that you bring them here? To a place that can be tied back to you immediately? Didn't you ever listen when I tried to tell you something? Of all the stupid, hare-brained things you've come up with over the past years, this has to be the most stupid of them all!"

"Now where have I heard those words before?", Shawn mumbled, and once more Henry jabbed his elbow into his ribs.

Delgado still paid no mind to them, he was towering above his son, finger pointed angrily at his chest. "Now we've got to get rid of them, and we need to make sure nobody connects that to us. Wonderful job, really! Trust me that you won't be doing anything in my business for a very long time. You've just shot the little trust you've earned yourself straight to hell, Ricardo!"

"Oh, but I don't think he wants the crumbs you're feeding him, anyway", Shawn said, louder this time. Slowly, Delgado turned around to face Shawn.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Shawn, what are you doing?", Henry hissed, but Shawn gestured for him to be silent. For as long as he managed to keep those two occupied with each other, he and his father were relatively safe. He needed to buy them time until, hopefully, the police found them.

"I get the feeling that your son is more interested in opening up his own branch of business, sir."

Delgado's gaze swivelled from Shawn back to his son and returned to Shawn. "You have all but ten seconds to elaborate that, Spencer. I wouldn't waste any of it."

Slowly, so that the move wouldn't seem threatening, Shawn brought his fingers up to his temple again. "Berger was working for you. With his job in the marina, it was the perfect decoy. You were employing people to take out their boats south, into international waters. There they met with some of your South American business partners, and drugs were loaded onto the private boats. When those came back from their fishing trips, your faithful marina worker unloaded the drugs under the cover of the night, and dropped them off to one of your men. But Berger didn't know everything. He didn't know that you knew exactly just how many kilograms of drugs were supposed to arrive with each shipment. After all, you're a businessman. You need to have everything under control, don't you? But Berger didn't know. He thought he could rip you off. But I'm sensing something else…"

Shawn closed his eyes tightly and drew a couple of deep breaths. When he opened his eyes again, he abruptly turned his gaze on Ricky, and was inwardly laughing when he saw that the younger Delgado in fact jumped a little under his gaze.

"Berger wasn't clever enough on his own. He wasn't daring enough on his own. There was somebody who was taking initiative. Somebody who was deeply dissatisfied with his current situation of employment."

Delgado followed Shawn's gaze, and the look he gave his son could have frozen hell over. "What did you have to do with Berger?", he asked in a tight voice.

Ricky swallowed. "Nothing! Nothing at all! He's lying, pop. He's just making this up to play us against each other."

"Oh, but you're doing all that on your own", Shawn continued. "You were angry that your father didn't trust you enough to give you more responsibilities in his…business. So you decided to show him that you could do just as well as he could. You told Berger to cut off a certain amount of each drug delivery and arranged drop offs between Berger and yourself. I'm getting…wait, what's that? March 11th, May 27th, July 1st. But there were others, other dates before that. You stashed away a nice amount of the drugs and wanted to sell them off at a higher price than your father was getting from his own deals, to show him that trusting you with that branch of his business would be profitable for him. But you just didn't count on your Dad realising that drugs went missing, did you? Only, your father didn't know that you were involved. He thought that Berger was trying to rip him off, that's why he killed him. And you got scared. If Daddy dearest ever found out that you were the one behind the mystery of the vanishing drugs, all you'd be responsible for in the future would be kissing your father's ass in an attempt to get back in his good graces."

Lorenzo Delgado turned back to his son. "Where is the cocaine, Ricardo?"

"I don't know what he's talking about, Pop! He's crazy, he's making that stuff up!"

"I see bears!", Shawn yelled. "Winnie the Poh, Yogi Bear, I'm getting bears. And stuffing. Stuffed turkey, stuffed faces, stuffed bears – teddy bears!" He stumbled over towards the cardboard boxes in the corner and blindly reached into the topmost box, pulling out a teddy bear with a blue ribbon tied around its neck.

"Little Ricky hid the cocaine away in those teddy bears to sell them later on. But suddenly Berger was dead, and he knew he needed to get rid of the evidence against himself, no matter whether he got a good price for it or not. He showed the cocaine to a customer not too long ago. Yesterday? This morning? There's a bear which has been ripped open in this box, I'd say the customer took whatever was inside with him for testing the merchandise. What's that?" Shawn put one of the teddy bears up to his ear and pretended to listen. "Your tummy aches? I'm sorry, my little furry friend, I'm afraid I'll have to do a little impromptu surgery then" And he ripped open the bear's fur. Pulling out the stuffing, his fingers closed around a small plastic bag which he tossed wildly through the room as if it had burned his fingers.

A frown on his face, Delgado senior picked up the little baggie and inspected it. Then, very slowly, he turned towards his son. "Ricardo? Do you have an explanation for this?"

Little Ricky was breathing heavily, sweat standing out on his face. "I…I don't…I mean, he's…this is ridiculous, pop!"

"Is it now", Delgado murmured, eerily calm.

Shawn slowly stepped away from the cardboard boxes and took a few steps back towards his father. "Ricky heard that you had told me to stay off the case. Which, just for the record, I did. I'll repeat it if necessary. But Ricky was getting worried that this whole thing might still blow up in his face, and he didn't want that. So he staked out my office, to see what I was up to. And he talked to O'Leary again. Now, I know that you had already done that, Mr. Delgado sr., because it was O'Leary who told you about my involvement in the first place. But you were convinced that O'Leary didn't know anything about the drugs Berger was shipping for you, so you decided to leave him alone. It would have been too bothersome if O'Leary turned up dead as well and the police started investigating the murders as connected. They might have just found something pointing towards you. Which you didn't know they already had found amongst Berger's things, because your son was stupid enough to call Berger from a cell phone that was connected to another case in which the name Delgado showed up."

The look Delgado gave his son at those words was pure venom. But Shawn wasn't finished yet, he was on a roll.

"Little Ricky freaked about the fact that O'Leary might know something. He freaked because he was worried that given enough pressure, he'd just tell you about your son's involvement in the drug deals. Or maybe O'Leary guessed that something was up with so many strange people asking questions about Berger's death. Did he call you, Ricky? He'd better not, because if he did, there's a direct trail leading from him to you. Every prosecutor's dream." He turned back to the older Delgado. "But no matter what freaked your son out so bad, Little Ricky decided to do what he thought a good mob-boss would do in that situation – he killed O'Leary. Shot him in the park, probably tried to make it look like a burglary."

Delgado turned towards his son, his face a mask of ire. "Is that true, Ricardo? Are you really that stupid?"

Shawn laughed. "Oh yes, he is. Probably even more stupid than you think. My guess is that he wasn't clever enough to wipe his traces, so I'm fairly sure the police will find something that connects him to O'Leary's death. Tell me, Ricky, did you use a brand new gun? Did you think to wipe everything down? Did you wipe your footprints? I heard it was raining during the night, and those footprints can really be a pain in the ass. Much better criminals than you have been convicted because of a footprint."

"Shut up!", Ricardo yelled. "Just shut the fuck up, you know nothing!"

"Oh, but I think I do. It's not that difficult to work all this out, it's not as if a mastermind genius was at work here. A second grader could have figured out your little scheme. It was only a matter of time before your father would have figured it out, too. But killing O'Leary wasn't your last mistake, was it? No, when your stakeout reported that Detective O'Hara came by my office earlier today, you freaked out again. Even though she was just bringing me a friggin' smoothie. But you figured that I was still a threat to you, that I was still involved in the case and if I figured out what was going on, it would only be a matter of time until your father found out, as well. And that thought made you nearly crap your pants, so you send two of your goons over to take me. You couldn't kill me in the office, because that would have made the police look into this whole affair so much more closely. Besides, you wanted to find out what I knew, and probably you thought that kidnapping was exactly what a real mobster would do in this situation! And again, you hadn't thought this thing through. My father was in the office with me, and your goons simply took both of us. And now you've got the whole of the SBPD looking for a missing ex-cop and a missing police consultant because your goons left me enough time to trash the office and make my partner suspicious. And you're sitting here, crapping your pants because now Daddy has found out everything you've been doing behind his back, and because you were so damn stupid to leave a trail of evidence all over the place! Just enjoy your last few hours of breathing fresh air, because for the next couple of years, all your air will be filtered through bars!"

Ricky's expression was one of pure, unadulterated terror, and with each of Shawn's words he seemed to have popped another drop of sweat.

"Shut up!"

"It's a little too late for that now, isn't it?", Shawn said cockily. A little too cockily.

With a speed that belied his size, Ricardo's hand reached underneath his jacket. Henry saw the movement, but before he could do as much as turn towards Shawn, Ricky had pulled his gun and pointed it at Shawn. The shot rang out hollowly, echoing off the bare walls, and to Henry it seemed as if the world stopped spinning for a moment.

_No_!

Henry didn't even know whether he had shouted the word out loud.

The impact of the bullet threw Shawn off balance, and as if in slow motion Henry watched his son wave back and to the side.

Then he heard his son's scream, and time started again.

Ricky just stood there, gun still pointed at Shawn, yelling "I told you to shut up!", but Henry didn't even hear him. Shawn collapsed to the floor, hand coming up to press against his chest, and Henry fell to his knees beside his son without even noticing that he had hurried to his side.

Blood was already pouring out from under Shawn's hand, and without thinking Henry shrugged out of the Hawaiian shirt he wore over his t-shirt, bunched it up and pulled Shawn's hand away from the wound. As he pressed the fabric tightly against the wound, Shawn screamed again and tried to move away from the hand.

"Easy, son. I know it hurts, but I need to stem the bleeding."

"Hurts", Shawn breathed out, eyes screwed tightly shut.

"I know, kid. I know. I'm sorry."

In fact, Henry didn't know just how much it hurt to get shot. He had been shot _at_ numerous times during his time as a cop, but he had never been shot. Right now, he'd gladly change that if it meant that his son remained unharmed.

With his one hand still pressing the shirt tightly against his son's left side, Henry felt beneath the shoulder with his other hand.

No exit wound. Probably a low calibre bullet, or the bullet got stuck in Shawn's shoulder blade. Henry quickly assessed the situation. On the one hand, it was good news that there was no exit wound. Exit wounds were what caused the most damage, not the little holes through which the bullets entered a body. Entry wounds didn't bleed as excessively as TV made you believe. But Shawn's wound was bleeding, and badly. That meant the bullet hat hit a bigger blood vessel. It hadn't hit the heart, though, otherwise Shawn would be dead by now. Ricky's aim had fortunately been a little too high. But still, Shawn needed to get to a hospital, as soon as possible. He was losing too much blood for Henry's liking, and if that bullet was still lodged somewhere in Shawn's body then it could still cause damage. Not to mention the risk of infection, but that was the thing farthest from Henry's mind right now.

Henry pressed the makeshift compress down a little tighter.

"It's all right, Shawn. You're going to be fine."

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Gus believed he was slowly going insane. Normally, while waiting, time seemed to pass as slowly as treacle. Right now, it seemed to be running. Every minute that Shawn and Henry were not found meant that they were in greater danger, and Gus didn't have the feeling that they were getting any closer to finding them.

Not that Lassiter and Juliet were going lengths to keep him in the loop. He could understand that, they had plenty to do without giving Gus updates in ten minutes intervals, but still. Not knowing what was going on was slowly driving him mad.

Nervously, he paced up and down the corridor. Juliet had been busy going through property listings for Delgado and his firms for the past twenty minutes, and Lassiter had been going through everything the forensics had already reported so far. But so far, they had nothing. And for as long as they didn't even have the slightest reason aside form a gut feeling to believe that it was Delgado who held Shawn and Henry, there was no probable cause. No way for them to just go ahead and search Delgado's properties for them. Not that they would have known where to start searching, anyway.

But wait. Wait, wait, wait. Brain flash.

Everybody had always said Delgado senior was too clever to allow evidence tying him to the crimes he committed. But they had also said that junior wasn't exactly his father's son when it came to intelligence. So what if it wasn't the father, but the son who was behind the kidnapping?

Gus hurried over towards Juliet's desk.

"Juliet, do you have all the property listings for Delgado?"

Juliet looked up at Gus with a surprised frown. "Yes, I do. But they don't help us any, Gus, it's just too many of them."

"Are there any properties listed under the son's name?"

"Yes, I think there are. Wait a second. Here, there's a beach house. Or rather, a villa. Probably registered under the son for tax reasons. But there was something else, wait a moment. Why are you asking?"

Gus bit his lip. "Because I'm not so sure that the father is behind all this. The last time he wanted to take Shawn, he waited until he was on a deserted road out of town, and it was only by coincidence that his bike was found as quickly as it was. And now he drives his van up to the office in broad daylight and kidnaps two people, in hopes that nobody will notice? It sounds weird, doesn't it? And haven't you all said that the son is a lot less clever than the father is? I was just thinking, maybe he's behind all this."

Juliet still shifted through the papers she had printed out. "Even if there is another property listed under his name, it still won't be enough for either a warrant or probable cause. Ah, here it is. An industrial complex is also listed under Ricardo's name. Fourth Street on the corner of Baker."

"Did you say Fourth and Baker?", Lassiter's voice interrupted them.

"Yes, why?"

With unusual excitement, Lassiter shifted through the papers on his own desk. "I've been going through the O'Leary case while I was waiting for forensics to call. There was something on his phone record. Ah, here it is. O'Leary called a phone registered with Red Bell Phone Company the day before his murder. Twice. The phone isn't registered under a name, but under a company. Palomino Enterprises. I'm running it through the computer right now. The address in the phone registration is Fourth and Baker."

Juliet took her mouse and called up a city map on her computer. "There is only one complex on that corner, it has to be the same building." A smile broke out on her face.

"That means that O'Leary called a company working on Ricardo Delgado's property only hours prior to his death."

Something beeped on Lassiter's computer. He turned back towards the monitor and clicked his mouse a couple of times. "Not merely a company working on Ricardo Delgado's property. Palomino Enterprises is a sub-Enterprise of R&D Ltd., the dummy construction company Lorenzo established to keep his son occupied."

He turned away from the monitor. "That's enough for me. O'Hara, get me as many officers ready as you can, I'm going to tell the Chief."

At that moment, the phone on Lassiter's desk rang. The head detective as he snatched the phone off its cradle before the second ring. Juliet got up from her chair.

"I'll tell the chief. She needs to call a judge about that warrant. That connection should be enough."

As Juliet hurried off, Gus turned back to Lassiter. The head detective was listening intently to what the person on the other end was saying.

"You're 100 sure about this?" Again, he waited while the other person spoke. "All right. Thank you."

Lassiter hung up the phone, looking dazed for a moment.

"O'Hara went to tell the chief", Gus felt the need to supply. Lassiter merely nodded as an answer, and a little disconcertedly Gus noticed that the detective was checking his sidearm.

"You're going there now?"

Lassiter nodded. "Yes. As quickly as possible."

He got up from his chair at the same time that Juliet and Chief Vick came hurrying out of the Chief's office. "I'll have that warrant ready before you even arrive at the building, detective. I want at least five units there, and I'm going to send an ambulance with you, just in case. Silent approach, no lights, no sirens. If Shawn and Henry are truly there, we don't want to spook Delgado off."

Lassiter nodded. "Forensics just called. They matched the bullet found in the Psych office to the bullet that killed O'Leary. They ran the test twice. There's no doubt about it."

Vick nodded. "Good. That's more than enough for the warrant, even against a Delgado. Go now, quickly."

Both Lassiter and O'Hara hurried out of the station without any further prompting. Gus made move to follow, but Vick held him back by his arm.

"No, Mr. Guster."

"But…"

"I said no. This takedown will be dangerous enough for both Spencers as it is. I will not let another civilian get involved in it."

Gus made move to protest, but Vick cut him off. "I am going to call for that warrant now, inform the ambulance to get on standby position nearby, and then I am going there myself. You may come along with me in my car, but you will stay in the car until I explicitly tell you that you can get out. Do I make myself clear?"

Gus nodded immediately. "Yes, whatever you say."

"Good." And not taking her eyes off Gus, as if she was afraid he'd run down to his car the moment she turned her back, Vick picked up the phone and called the judge.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

He couldn't stop the bleeding. It was a horrible realisation for Henry. As much as he pressed down on the wound, and he was already pressing so hard that the pain for Shawn had to be excruciating, but the bleeding simply didn't stop. Already the shirt he was using as a compress was soaked, and Shawn wouldn't hold out much longer without medical help.

He didn't even know how much time had passed since the shot, it had been too long, but obviously not long enough for the two Delgados to turn their attention away from their fighting and back to Henry and Shawn.

As much as Henry tried to focus on Shawn, and Shawn alone, he couldn't help but hear the two men fighting in the background.

"Just how incredibly stupid are you, Ricardo? Just how dumb? You've just shot somebody right in your own warehouse. Do you know what an effort it will be to clean this mess again so that there won't be any trace left?"

"Why couldn't he keep his fucking mouth shut, then nothing would have happened!"

"Did you use a new gun?"

"Pop, I…"

"Did you use a new gun?", Lorenzo Delgado yelled on top of his voice. "Don't tell me you've been stupid enough to use a gun that could be on file somewhere!"

"Nobody is ever going to find him to dig out the bullet, Pop. I promise. And I'll wipe down the gun and get rid of it."

The two men were yelling so loud at each other that Henry at first nearly missed his son's whispered words. Carefully, he bent closer.

"What was that, Shawn?"

"Need…gun."  
"Yes, we could use a gun right now, Shawn. But we have a fat chance of getting to one."

Shawn shook his head slightly eyes screwed shut tightly against the pain. After a long moment and a few very deep breaths, he opened his eyes and looked at his father.

"No. Need _his_…gun. Proof."

"Shawn, he just said he's wiped it down."

A slight smile showed on Shawn's face but immediately turned into a pained grimace. "Not the…gun. He's stupid…'m sure he didn't…wipe his prints off the…bullets."

A small proud smile formed on Henry's face. But right now, collecting proof against Delgado wasn't on top of his priority list. Neither Lorenzo nor Little Ricky planned on keeping them alive to collect any evidence, and if the police weren't already hot on their trail, Shawn wouldn't make it out of this alive, anyway.

Henry pulled down on the compress a little more tightly, but Shawn barely reacted. He probably didn't have the strength left to react with more than a low moan of pain.

"Stop…hurts."

Henry wanted nothing more than comply, but he shook his head. "No chance, kiddo. If I let go now, you'll be dead in a few minutes. And that's not going to happen. Do you hear me? You're going to be fine."

Shawn grimaced. "Don't feel…fine."

"That'll pass. But I need you to stay awake, all right?"

"Can't."

Shawn's breathing as getting more rapid now, and cold sweat had broken out on his face. Worriedly, Henry wiped at it with one hand, but then brought it quickly back down onto the compress.

"You have to, Shawn. Focus. Help is on its way, you only need to hold on a little longer."

"No…can't…breathe. Hurts. Can't…breathe."

Shawn's breaths were getting more and more shallow, and Henry's worry spiked. The gunshot wound was too high to have damaged Shawn's lung directly, but something was impairing his breathing. This was bad.

"No, come on Shawn. You have to breathe! It'll be all right, you only have to focus on breathing now!"

But suddenly there were hands on his shoulders, pulling him away from Shawn. Henry struggled, he didn't want to let go, but before he knew it, Lorenzo Delgado's two goons had pulled him to his feet and were holding him back tightly. Henry continued to struggle, but had no chance of breaking free.

The older Delgado stepped in front of Henry with a wide grin on his face.

"You bastard!", Henry spat at him.

Delgado just shrugged. "He'll be dead soon, anyway. He doesn't need you to hold his hand for that. I warned you that something would happen to your kid if you ever got in my way."

And suddenly Henry's vision turned red. He no longer cared about the two goons holding him, he no longer cared about the fact that the other people had guns and he didn't. He no longer cared about anything except for the fact that his son was lying a few feet away, bleeding to death, and it was all Delgado's fault. And if there was already nothing he could change about Shawn being shot, he'd most certainly not let that bastard keep him away from Shawn right now.

Henry didn't know where the strength came from, but suddenly he was free of the hands holding him. His vision was limited to nothing but the surprised expression on Delgado's face when he realised that Henry was suddenly free, and then there was a fist connecting with Delgado's face and Henry heard the satisfying sound of bone breaking as his fist connected with Delgado's nose with all the strength he could muster.

Blood was pouring out of the crooked mess that only moments before had been Delgado's nose, but Henry didn't care. Not even waiting for Delgado's reaction, Henry turned around and ran over to his son's side.

"Shawn! Shawn, can you hear me?"

Shawn didn't react, and Henry immediately pressed the bunched up shirt tightly against the wound again. Shawn was still bleeding, which mean that his heart was still beating. But judged by the size of the pool of blood on the floor, he wouldn't hold out much longer.

"Shawn! Come on, kiddo, don't do that to me!"

But Shawn was no longer responding, and by now his breathing was so shallow and rapid that it was barely perceptible anymore.

Henry no longer cared about Delgado, or his men, or what they would do to him once they had overcome the commotion of their boss' broken nose. All he cared about right now was that his only child was dying right in front of his eyes and there was not a damn thing he could do to stop it.

But still he kept strong pressure on the wound with one hand while he ran the other through his son's messy and sweat-soaked hair.

"Shawn, can you hear me? You have to hold on, all right? Just a little longer."

No reaction. Henry felt more than he heard somebody step up behind him, and he knew what was about to happen next. But he didn't close his eyes. Instead, he kept his eyes trained firmly on his son's face as the cold metal of the gun barrel was pressed against the back of his head.


	12. Darkness in a brightly lit room

**Chapter 11 – Darkness**** in a brightly lit room**

The warehouse was dark as Lassiter stopped the car on the road. But that didn't have to mean anything, there were offices on the back of the building which couldn't be seen from the road. Lassiter got out of the car and gestured for Juliet to follow him as he reached for the walkie-talkie that was fixed on top of his bullet-proof west.

"I want two teams on the back of the building, blocking all entrances."

"Roger that, team alpha and gamma are on the way."

"The rest come with me, we take the front."

"Roger"

Pulling his gun, Lassiter made sure that the security was disengaged, then looked at Juliet once more. She nodded at him.

"Ready."

"Good. We're going in silently."

Juliet nodded and together with three other teams of officers, the two set out towards the front door of the building. Lassiter noticed that there was a black van parked across the street, next to a black SUV, but he didn't concern himself with this any further. The cars were empty, and there were other units here to check the registrations.

The front door was unlocked, and Lassiter thanked the deities responsible for this small mercy. Breaking down the door would have been too loud, and jimmying the lock would have taken too much time.

Inside, the warehouse was pitch dark, so Lassiter pulled out his flashlight with his free hand and held it below his gun barrel to light the way ahead.

It was a warehouse like thousands of others in the city. Front door leading into a big storage room that took up the entire height of the building. Loading dock to the left, facing Baker Street, and on the level of the second floor huge glass windows lightened the storage room throughout the day. The offices were in the back. One was connected to the storage room by a huge glass window, and it was dark. There was nobody inside.

The second office was entirely separated from the storage room, no window facing the storage area, and the door was closed. If there was truly anybody in here, that's where they were. Lassiter stopped and raised a hand to get the attention of the other officers, then pointed towards the second office door. At that moment, he got the confirmation through his in-ear that the teams on the back of the building were in place. If there was a back way out of the building, they had it covered, and more reinforcements were on the way.

Adrenaline started running high. Lassiter had been involved in many busts in his life, but never been in such a situation before. If their information was sound, both Spencer men were in that office, together with an unknown number of mafia goons. That takedown might just become difficult.

Lassiter and Juliet took up position on either side of the office door. The deadbolt and locks were obviously disengaged which meant that they'd get the door opened up on the first try and didn't have to break it down. Another thing that worked in their favour. Lassiter only hoped that this lucky streak would hold, they could certainly need it.

Lassiter gestured towards the door, then at himself, holding out three fingers. As he received answering nods from the officers around him that they understood and had their weapons ready, Lassiter started his countdown. Silently, Lassiter counted with his fingers, and after he had reached the "one", he drew a last deep breath, readied his weapon and tore open the door.

"SBPD!"

"Freeze!"

"Police! Put your weapons down!"

The office was brightly lit, and as soon as Lassiter and Juliet had entered the room, the other officers barrelled in behind them. Lassiter looked around, scanning the room. The three goons who had been unfortunate enough to stand near the door were immediately disarmed and cuffed. To Lassiter's right was Ricardo Delgado, staring at the display in front of him with a totally dumbfolded expression on his face. Before Lassiter could even react, Juliet was already on her way over to him, frisked him for weapons and slapped the cuffs on his wrists.

Which was good, because for just one moment, just one second, Carlton Lassiter forgot everything he had ever been taught about behaviour during a takedown and simply stared at the display in front of him. Lorenzo Delgado was standing, his back to the door, a gun in his hand and pointed at the back of Henry Spencer's head. The former cop seemed frozen solid in place by the pressure of the barrel against his head, but still he kept a firm pressure on whatever cloth he was using as a makeshift compress against his son's chest.

The sight of the always so annoyingly lively and loud Spencer lying motionless in a huge pool of blood in fact shocked Lassiter into a frozen stupor for a moment. But only for a moment. Whether or not Spencer was even alive was a matter for later, right now he needed to take care of the mob-boss holding Spencer's father at gunpoint.

"Drop the weapon, Delgado!"

Lassiter stepped into the mob-boss' line of vision, gun pointed straight at Delgado's chest. Delgado didn't move, but after a moment his eyes shifted towards Lassiter. The detective was startled for a moment. Delgado's nose looked as if he had run straight on into a steel wall.

"Put the gun down, Delgado. That's my last warning."

Lassiter's gun arm never wavered, and he searched Delgado's face for the telltale signs that would tell him what the man would do next. Inwardly he prepared himself to pull the trigger before Delgado could shoot the older Spencer. But Delgado deliberated motionlessly for a moment, then he slowly withdrew the gun and raised his arms.

Lassiter immediately took the weapon away from the man. "On your knees, hands behind your head."

"You have no right to be here", Delgado said, eerily calm. "You have nothing you can hold against me with this illegal entry. This will cost you your badge."

Lassiter didn't even try to keep the contempt out of his voice. "We have a warrant, and you are under arrest. I'd really advice you to make use of your right to remain silent, before you tempt me to do something I might regret later. Sanders, take him out and read him his rights. Wilkerson, radio the ambulance. We need those EMTs here ASAP!"

When the two officers set to their tasks, Lassiter turned back towards the two Spencers. Henry was still kneeling in the same position, all but behaving as if he hadn't noticed that the barrel of the gun was no longer pressing against his head. Right now, Lassiter was even willing to believe that the ex-cop hadn't even noticed the gun in the first place.

Lassiter slowly knelt down next to Henry and tried to catch his eyes. Henry didn't react, he was totally focussed on his son's face, even though Shawn wasn't moving. Lassiter tried to get a better look at the wound, but other than the fact that it must have bled like mad he couldn't detect anything. But if there was one thing that was clear, then it was that Spencer couldn't afford to lose any more blood.

So without a word directed at Henry, which the former cop wouldn't have heard anyway, Lassiter put his own hands above Henry's and pushed down tightly.

"Where are those EMTs?", he yelled back over his shoulder. "We need them here ten minutes ago!"

There was a flurry of activity behind him, then a voice called out "Coming through!", and two medics put their equipment down beside Lassiter.

"What have we got?"

"Gunshot wound to the chest", Lassiter replied, surprised that his voice wasn't as calm as it normally was. "He has lost a lot of blood."

"All right, we'll take it from here. Move aside!"

Lassiter got up as the EMT he had spoken to relieved him of keeping pressure on the wound. Henry, however, remained kneeling in the same position, not taking his hands off the wound.

"Sir, we need you to let go so that we can do our job!"

Lassiter was sure that Henry hadn't heard a word of what the medic had said. Gently but firmly he grabbed the older man by the upper arm and pulled him away. At first, Henry resisted, but then it was as if the strength to fight had simply left him and he slowly got to his feet.

"Let them do their job, Henry. They'll get him to the hospital as quickly as they can."

Henry nodded, numbly, his eyes averted as if he could not stand watching the EMTs working on his son's lifeless body. He was still clutching the bloody remains of his shirt in his hand, which was slowly dripping blood to the floor. Lassiter tugged at the shirt, and Henry's fingers released it to let it drop to the floor with a wet smack that made Lassiter's stomach turn.

"Come on, let's give them some room."

Still not saying a word, Henry allowed Lassiter to lead him a few steps away from his son. Both Delgados and the goons they had brought along were no longer in the office; Lassiter guessed that by now they were in the back of a police cruiser on their way to being charged and arraigned. But they could stew for a while, there were other things to think about right now.

Truth was, Lassiter didn't quite know what to say. Henry was currently spaced out in a world all of his own, a world that consisted of nothing but the fact that his son was right now bleeding to death only a few feet away from him, and there was nothing Lassiter could say to make that any better. It was a disturbing situation.

As the EMTs began loading Shawn onto a gurney, Chief Vick came hurrying through the office door, much to Lassiter's dismay with Guster in tow. Vick stared at Henry, and for the first time Lassiter noticed that even without the bloody shirt in his hand, Spencer was smeared with blood. There was blood all over his formerly white t-shirt, and his hands and forearms were, well, red. Vick stared at all the blood for a moment, then turned towards Lassiter, asking the question foremost on her mind without voicing it. Lassiter shrugged. He had no idea if Spencer was going to survive this. In fact, he didn't even have an idea whether or not he was still alive as of this moment, and he most certainly wouldn't start speculating now.

"God, is that Shawn's blood?"

Guster had stormed into the room after Vick, and at the sight of the large amount of blood on the floor had stopped dead in his tracks, looking every bit as if he was about to either collapse or throw up. Vick turned around towards Guster, and when she saw that he was about to storm over towards the gurney she held him back by the arm.  
"Not now, Mr. Guster. Let them get him to the hospital. And whatever you do, don't throw up on our crime scene!"

Lassiter was sure that she hadn't meant to sound that harsh, but judged from the look on her face, she was just as shocked about seeing the younger Spencer like this than the rest of them were. O'Hara, who had been silently staring at what the EMTs were doing for the past minutes, her face pale and drawn, took Gus by the arm.

"Come on Gus. Let's get you out to the car, then I'll drive you to the hospital."

Gus nodded numbly and allowed her to lead him out of the office. Vick turned towards Lassiter. "Carlton, I want you to go to the hospital as well. Keep me updated. Forensics will work the crime scene here, and I'll start questioning the Delgados for now."

Lassiter nodded and turned back to Henry just as the EMTs finished strapping Shawn to the gurney and started wheeling him towards the door.

"Anybody know his blood-type?", one of them called out to Lassiter and Henry. Lassiter looked at Henry, and without taking his eyes off his son Henry answered.

"B positive."

It was the first he had spoken since Lassiter had arrived, and the detective was shocked to hear the older man's voice sound as rough and hoarse as it did.

"Wait", Lassiter called and pulled Henry along behind the EMTs and the gurney. "He's going to ride with you to the hospital."

Without breaking stride, one of the EMTs shook his head. "Not this time, detective. We'll need all the room we can get in there if we want to bring this one to the hospital alive."

And then they were out he front door, and it was a matter of less than a minute to load Shawn into the back of the ambulance and take off with wailing sirens and flashing lights.

Totally stunned, Henry stood on the street outside the warehouse and stared at the spot where he had last seen his son, just before the EMT had closed the ambulance doors.

Lassiter drew a deep breath, ran a hand over his face, then reached for Henry's arm again.  
"Come on Henry, I'll drive you to the hospital."

Henry nodded and followed the detective, still without saying a word.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

It was a blur. It felt as if he was drunk and couldn't really make sense of everything that was going on around him. He saw the images, but he couldn't make sense of them.

Carlton Lassiter. Henry had no idea where he had come from, or where Delgado had gone to. He didn't care, either. There were people crowding around Shawn, blocking Henry's view, and then Karen was there and Gus, but they weren't supposed to be here because nobody knew where they were and Shawn was bleeding to death and there was nothing Henry could do about it. But then they took Shawn away, and Henry couldn't let them do that but he wasn't able to form any words of protest, and before he knew what was happening Shawn had been driven away, and he was in the passenger seat of a car, Lassiter behind the wheel, and then the bright lights of the emergency room blinded him for a moment as they entered the hospital.

A nurse was hurrying towards him, asking him questions, her eyes anxious, but Henry didn't hear a word she was saying over the sound of his blood pounding in his own ears. He was looking for his son, he only wanted to see Shawn, but no matter where he looked, Shawn wasn't here. Lassiter said a few words to the nurse, who seemed to calm down a little and went away. Suddenly, Lassiter's hand was on his arm.

"Come on, let's go wash the blood off your hands."

A restroom, that was the next thing he was aware of, he was standing in a restroom, watching his son's blood flow down the drain as he washed it off his hands. This wasn't right. His son's blood wasn't supposed to be on his hands and arms, and much less was it supposed to flow gurgling down a drain like dirty dishwater. Shawn needed it, how could he let it flow down the drain like that?

And then he was in a chair, sitting down in a waiting room, it seemed. It was getting a little easier to hold on to reality now, not much, but at least a little easier. But still the foremost thing on his mind was the image of his son, lying lifelessly in front of him, blood flowing out his wound no matter how much Henry tried to stop it.

Gus was there, Henry noticed. His son's best friend was sitting in the chair next to Henry, silently staring at the wall ahead. Henry knew that Gus couldn't stand to look at him right now. Gus had always been particular about seeing blood, that hadn't changed in the past twenty years.

Henry struggled harder not to drift off right now. He needed to focus, needed to be ready for the doctor when he came out and told him that Shawn…told him what had happened to his son. He needed to focus.

Henry took a few deep breaths and tried to focus both, his eyes and his mind. It wasn't easy, it was so much easier to just sit there in a stupor and wait for the things to come, but he couldn't do that now. He owed it to Shawn to keep his head clear.

It was a monumental effort, and Henry didn't know how long it took, but after breathing deeply for a few long moments the fog around his mind lifted a little more. He looked around for the first time. Gus was no longer there, but Lassiter was sitting in the chair next to Henry.

"How long have we been here?", Henry asked. It was a stupid question, but if Lassiter thought so he didn't let it show.

"Forty minutes. He's still in surgery."

Henry nodded. Another thing that helped him hold on to reality a little more, knowing the time.

"Where is Gus?"

"Downstairs, giving blood."

Just three words, but they served to make Henry chuckle, despite everything. Lassiter looked at Henry as if he had gone mad.

"What's so funny about that?"

"Gus hates the sight of blood. Even his own. And his blood type doesn't match Shawn's."

Lassiter frowned. "How do you know?"

"He and Shawn have been friends since elementary school. I spent half my free time driving one of them or both to the hospital. The nurses in the ER offered me to stash a personal coffee cup here. I know Gus' medical record as well as my own son's."

The corner of Lassiter's mouth twitched, just a little. "Then maybe his donation will help somebody else. Somehow, word has gotten out about Spe…Shawn being shot, by now half the Department is lining up downstairs to give blood."

Henry looked up at Lassiter, astounded. He had seen that before, during his active days on the force. A cop was shot, or hurt otherwise, and next thing you knew every cop in the city turned up to donate blood. As Henry took his first good look at Lassiter ever since his arrival in the warehouse, he knew immediately just how word about Shawn's injuries had gotten out. And one didn't need to have Shawn's perceptive abilities to interpret Lassiter's slight paleness, and the half-empty plastic cup of juice he was holding, to know who had initiated the blood donations.

"Thank you, Carlton."

Lassiter waved him off. "I'm head detective, Henry. What kind of an example would I set otherwise? Besides, I'm a universal donor. It's no big deal."

To Henry it was, but he didn't say it out loud.

A small smile showed on Lassiter's face. "Besides, as much as your son is grating on my nerves, that doesn't give anybody but me the right to shoot him. Especially not before I have had some words with him about locking me in the Records Room."

"He did that?"

Lassiter shook his head. "Either that, or the broom somehow lodged itself in front of the door."

"Reversed gravity."

Lassiter frowned. "Pardon me?"

"He calls that reversed gravity. At least that's what he told me after I asked him how that rake ended up blocking the door to our garden shed when he was ten. Gus spent an entire afternoon in the dark, didn't talk to Shawn for an entire day afterwards."

He smiled slightly at the memory.

Lassiter only shook his head. "That's what I'll never understand."

"What?"

"Those two." He gestured around helplessly with his hands. "I mean, Guster is so…so _normal_. How can he be around your son everyday and not go crazy?"

"Gus is probably the only person on the entire face of the planet who really understands how Shawn's mind works."

"You don't?"

Henry looked at Lassiter with both eyebrows raised. "You really think I understand Shawn? No. I'm slowly getting there, at least I think so. But Gus simply knows what makes Shawn tick, I don't know how he does it. Maybe he's just grown up into Shawn's plane of thinking. He's the mediator between Shawn and the real world."

"Oh yes, I can see your son needing that."

"Yes. Sometimes I wished there had been someone to mediate between him and me."

Both men fell silent after that, staring at the clock on the opposite wall and waiting for news. Gus returned after another twenty minutes, looking pale and shaky, clutching his cup of juice and a chocolate cookie as if it were the only things that kept him from fainting.

He sat down on Henry's other side, and even attempted to smile at his friend's father as Henry squeezed his shoulder.

"Thanks for doing this, Gus."

Gus shrugged, acting as if there had been nothing to what he had just done. "It's all right, Mr. Spencer. I know it's not of much use for Shawn, but…it gave me the feeling that I could do something. I've been useless for the entire day, I was fed up with it."

"I wouldn't call pointing us in the right direction useless", Lassiter chimed in from Henry's other side.

"You did?", Henry asked Gus.

"I did?", Gus said to Lassiter.

"You were the one who made us look more closely into Ricky Delgado. Who knows if we had gotten that warrant solely on the phone call O'Leary made, without connecting the property. In any case, you saved us a lot of time, and from what I've seen, time was essential."

Gus didn't know what to say to that, and he moved around uncomfortably and crossed his arms in front of his chest. As his fingers brushed something in the inside pocked of his jacket, he seemed glad to direct the conversation into a different direction.

"Here, I've asked one of the nurses for those. I figured you might want to get rid of the t-shirt, you know, because of the…the blood."

He handed Henry the shirt belonging to a pair of scrubs. Henry took it, knowing fully well that seeing Shawn's blood smeared all over his t-shirt was bothering Gus the most.

"Thanks Gus."

He got up from his chair, surprised to realise that his legs were able to support him even though they felt like rubber. Then he shrugged out of the bloodied t-shirt and put on the shirt Gus had given him. For a moment, he looked helplessly at the t-shirt in his hands, then with a shake of his head threw it into a nearby trash bin. And somehow, even though he hadn't before paid any mind to the blood on his shirt, wearing something clean suddenly made a difference.

"Thanks", he said again as he sat back down, and the three men settled for the wait.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Three hours were a long time. In three hours, one could drink more cups of horrible hospital coffee than was healthy. In three hours, three men could imagine all kinds of horrible scenarios, over and over again. If three men waited for three hours, did that mean that all in all they had waited for nine hours?

Henry couldn't tell. It certainly felt as if it had been longer than that. Neither of them had spoken much during that time. In regular intervals, Lassiter had excused himself to go and call Chief Vick. Gus had paced occasionally. Henry had simply sat there, scared that if he got up his legs might give out underneath him.

When Lassiter came back from his latest check-in call with Chief Vick, there was a slight grin on his face. Henry silently raised an eyebrow at him.

"I just checked in with the Chief. Delgado senior has been brought to St. Francis' Emergency Room after his lawyer insisted on it for over an hour. Good job, Henry, you broke his nose in three places."

Henry didn't smile. He didn't even remember the moment when he had struck. "The bastard had that one coming for twenty years. He got off easy."

Lassiter drew breath to answer, but at that moment the doors on the other end of the corridor opened and a middle-aged man in scrubs came out towards them. Henry's breath caught in his throat, and without consciously thinking about it he found himself getting up.

"You're here for Shawn Spencer?"

"How's my son doing?", Henry said while Lassiter and Gus merely nodded at the doctor's question.

"Mr. Spencer, I'm Stuart Wilkins, your son's surgeon. Why don't we sit down…"

"No."

Startled, the three other men stared at Henry. But he didn't care. He didn't want to sit down again, because sitting down meant that the doctor was about to break bad news to him. And he couldn't allow that.

"No", he repeated more lowly. "Just tell me how Shawn is doing. The no-bullshit approach."

Wilkins nodded. "All right. The no-bullshit summary is that your son is in critical condition. To be honest, I can't quite explain what thread he's holding onto, but for now he is. The bullet nicked his subclavian artery before it lodged itself in his shoulder blade, that's what caused most of the blood loss. He'd have bled out quickly if the bleeding hadn't been stemmed right away. That saved his life. The problem was that the bullet did some more damage than just hitting the artery. Some smaller blood vessels were damaged, and the blood from those was accumulating inside his body and putting pressure on his lung. We had to do an emergency incision to drain the blood, but I'm still worried about Shawn's respiration. We have him on the respirator right now, for as long as he's critical I don't want him to put any additional stress on his lungs. What really worries me is the blood loss. The surgery took so long because I had to make absolutely sure that all the damage from the bullet was repaired, and that possible sources of infection have been removed. Frankly, I'm convinced that Shawn wouldn't survive another surgery right now, so we had to make absolutely sure we got everything during the first one."

Henry nodded, numbly, while his brain was still struggling to sort through all the information.

"What's your prognosis?", he rasped out.

Wilkins sighed. "I can't make any promises at this time. If his lung isn't damaged any further than we could assess right now, if he starts breathing spontaneously without any problems when we take him off the ventilator, _and_ if he doesn't catch an infection, he has a chance. As of yet I cannot make an estimation of the damage caused by the blood loss. We're watching his organ functions very closely. He had a circulation failure halfway through the surgery because his blood pressure was barely measurable anymore. So that's another thing we need to keep our eyes on. Listen Mr. Spencer, I hate that I cannot give you a clear answer to your questions, but fact is that the next twenty-four hours will be crucial. If Shawn gets through those without any further problems, I'll be able to tell you more."

Henry nodded. "I want to see him."

"He's in ICU, but you can go see him for a few minutes."

Henry shook his head. "You don't understand, doctor. A few hours ago I watched my son bleed nearly to death right in front of me. A few minutes won't do. I'll go see him, and I'm going to stay with him. There's no discussion about that."

Wilkins drew a deep breath, but something about the look in Henry's eyes stopped him from saying no. Finally, he sighed and nodded. "On the condition that you will leave your son's room immediately if a doctor or a nurse tells you to, I'll allow you to stay with him. But we can't have you standing in the way should Shawn's condition take a turn for the worse."

"It won't", Henry said with a confidence he didn't feel.

"All right. But just you, not all three of you. If you want to, you can go see him for a minute, but an ICU room isn't designed for receiving visitors."

Lassiter shook his head. "I need to get going. But I'm going to need the bullet first."

"Sure, I'll have it brought to you." He looked at Gus. "I can grant you a minute or two, not more. He needs rest now."

Gus nodded with a relieved sigh. "That's all I need."

"All right, if you'd follow me. Detective, I'll have somebody come down with the bullet."

Lassiter nodded his thanks, then turned towards Henry again. "I'll let the Chief know about Shawn. Call if…if anything changes."

Henry nodded. "Sure. Thank you, Carlton."

"Goodbye, Henry."

They left Lassiter waiting for the bullet and took the elevator one floor up to the ICU. Wilkins forced both Henry and Gus to put on sterile gowns before showing them into a small cubicle that was separated from the corridor by glass walls.

Henry had to stop a moment because suddenly his legs turned wobbly. It was hard to make out the bed amongst all the machinery piling up around it at first. Machinery which was right now all that was keeping his son alive. The heart monitor was beeping in a constant rhythm, accompanied by the sound of the respirator. Half a dozen monitors showed various readings of Shawn's bodily functions, but none of them held any meaning for Henry.

All he could look at was Shawn, who looked so small amongst all the machinery. Small and pale. And most disturbingly, still. Shawn was never really still, not even in sleep. He always shifted, turned or mumbled something. Seeing Shawn lie there like that was the most disturbing image Henry had ever seen.

Slowly, Henry walked over towards the one single chair standing beside the bed, sat down and picked up Shawn's hand. Eyes fixed on his son's face, trying not to notice the tube of the respirator sticking out of Shawn's mouth which just looked so _wrong_ being there at all, Henry settled for the wait. He didn't even notice the nurse who came in after five minutes to usher Gus out again, and he barely heard Gus' words about coming back in the morning. He would stay here until Shawn woke up. There was no "_if_" Shawn woke up. Only until.


	13. We make dysfunctional work

**Chapter 12 – We make dysfunctional work. We don't know how, but**** somehow we do.**

On his own, Henry would have never left the hospital. He had dozed in the chair beside Shawn's bed for some hours during the night, never once letting go of Shawn's hand. But Gus arrived later the next morning, and it was obvious that he craved to stay with his friend for a little longer than the previous evening's five minutes. Besides, Henry really needed a shower, he needed to shave, and he needed a change of clothes.

The mere thought of leaving Shawn's bedside tore him apart, but Gus would be there. If anything happened, Shawn wasn't alone. And that was the reason why Henry could finally bring himself to leave, if only for an hour and a half.

And so they settled in a rhythm. Henry would sit with Shawn for nearly the entire day, but Gus would relieve him for slightly more than an hour so that Henry could go home and grab a shower, a change of clothes and something to eat.

Henry didn't know if Dr. Wilkins had told the other personnel in the ICU about his refusal to leave his son alone, but nobody ever mentioned official visiting hours to him just once. Not that he would have cared. It would have taken far more than just a few words from a nurse to tear him away from Shawn's bedside. A whole SWAT team might not be enough to achieve that.

Besides, he was fairly sure that the others weren't playing by the rules, either. Every day, at least one or two other visitors flashed their police badges to gain them a few minutes with Shawn, and to drop off newspapers and magazines for Henry. Chief Vick came by nearly every day, Juliet O'Hara, a young rookie named McNabb, and even Lassiter showed up regularly, dressed in the sterile gowns, to come and see how Shawn was doing for themselves. Each time the list of people who were sending their best wishes grew longer. Henry just knew that Shawn would have been astonished at the number of people worrying about him, but that he would have been secretly pleased.

The doctors took Shawn off the respirator the afternoon after his surgery. Henry wasn't allowed to stay with his son during the procedure, but as he left Shawn's cubicle, Wilkins smiled at Henry with a nod. Henry breathed a huge sigh of relief. Shawn was breathing. That meant his lung was working just fine. It was one less problem to worry about.

The day after that, Shawn's temperature went up suddenly. Again, Henry was kicked out of his son's cubicle while a flurry of nurses and doctors examined his son. The emergency incision through which the stress of the blood on Shawn's lungs had been relieved had gotten infected, and he was put on stronger antibiotics to prevent the infection from spreading.

Henry didn't sleep that night, but by the time Gus arrived in the morning Shawn's temperature was back down to normal. Nevertheless, this time Henry broke his own record in driving home, taking care of all necessary needs and coming back. He also broke the speed limit on nearly the entire way, but he couldn't care less about that.

Shawn's prognosis improved with each day he managed to hold on, and by the end of the third day, Dr. Wilkins assured Henry that all of Shawn's vital functions were normal, that no lasting damage had been done by the blood loss, the respiration failure, or the circulation failure. The infection was receding. It were small steps, but that was all Henry could hope for. Now the repairs that had been done during the emergency surgery had to hold up and his wounds had to heal again. Oh, and he needed to wake up.

Seeing his son like that, silent and unmoving, day after day, was like punishment to Henry.

It was strange, seeing that there had been a time when they hadn't spoken for over a year. Henry couldn't understand anymore how he had managed that. Right now he had not heard his son's voice for slightly more than three days, and already it was driving him up the walls.

On the fourth day, Shawn woke up.

It was still early in the morning, Henry himself had woken up from a not very restful slumber a few minutes ago, when he felt a slight movement of Shawn's fingers against his. At first he wasn't sure whether he had just imagined it, but then he looked into his son's face and saw just a flutter of eyelids.

"Shawn?", he said in a voice a bit above a whisper and bent forward. "Can you hear me?"

Slowly, with much blinking, Shawn's hazel eyes opened. In the artificial light of the ICU, they appeared to be a deep green.

"Shawn?", Henry asked again.

Shawn stared ahead at the ceiling for a few long moments, then, as if the movement of his eyeballs was a huge feat of strength, he slowly turned his eyes on Henry. Henry smiled down at his son.

"Hey, it's good to see you again."

Shawn just looked at Henry for a few moments longer, then his lips started to move, but no sound came out.

"Shhh, don't talk. Save your strength. Are you in pain?"

Shawn gave a barely perceptible shake of his head, his eyes never once straying away from his father's. Henry smiled.

"No small wonder, they're keeping you on all the good stuff. Enjoy it while it lasts."

He squeezed his son's hand tightly, struggling to keep his emotions under control. Shawn was awake again, awake and coherent, so why did he feel like crying right now? There was no need to cry, not now that Shawn was out of the woods. Besides, Henry Spencer just didn't cry. There weren't any precedents. So he pulled himself together, even though it was hard work.

"I'm going to call in the nurse, all right? Just stay awake for a little longer."

Shawn nodded, still not saying a word, and Henry quickly picked up the call button and pressed it. Only a few moments later, a nurse entered the cubicle. Seeing Shawn's eyes open she stepped up to the bed with a smile.

"Mr. Spencer, so kind of you to join us. Took you long enough." She checked the readouts on the monitors that were still connected to Shawn, then turned away with a satisfied nod.

"All the readings seem normal. Dr. Wilkins will be glad to hear that. Now, you probably won't be able to stay awake for long, but don't worry. Just sleep if you feel like it, your body still needs a lot of rest. Also, take it easy on the talking. Your throat is probably still sore from the respirator, so if you have to talk, try to stick to whispering for the time being. If you feel that you're not getting enough air, don't panic. That might happen after respiratory problems like you suffered from. We can give you an oxygen mask anytime you feel short of breath. Are you thirsty?"

Shawn nodded slightly.

"I'll get you some ice to suck on, that's better for your throat. Just a moment."

The nurse left the cubicle, and Shawn's eyes turned back to Henry, confusion evident in his gaze.

"Dad?", he whispered, but still it sounded scratchy and hoarse.

"You were shot, remember?"

Shawn thought for a long moment, then shook his head. "No."

"Doesn't matter right now. You'll remember in time. The main thing is that you're awake again." He drew a deep breath and didn't quite know what to say next. "I was worried."

It was out before Henry even thought much about it. A small frown showed up on Shawn's face, but Henry was saved from explaining his emotions an further when the nurse returned to the cubicle, a plastic cup and spoon in her hands.

"You want to take over from here, Dad?", she asked, and Henry stretched out his hand for the cup.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome. I'll come look in again in half an hour. But remember, don't keep him awake. He needs rest now."

Henry nearly laughed out as he saw his son roll his eyes at the nurse's words. And at that moment, he dared to believe for the first time in days that his son would be all right again. Eye-rolls were a good sign, Henry decided to appreciate them a lot more in the future. Before she left the cubicle again, the nurse raised the head of the bed up slightly so that Shawn wouldn't have problems swallowing.

When she had gone, Henry stuck the spoon into the ice chips.

"All right, Shawn, I know you are thirsty, but I want you to suck on those chips, not swallow them. The last thing I need for you is to choke right now."

He was rewarded with another eye-roll as Shawn impatiently opened his mouth. He sucked on the small spoonful of ice Henry gave him with an expression on his face that was borderline obscene.

"You want some more?", Henry asked when he was sure that Shawn had swallowed it all down.

"Yes."

Henry carefully fed his son another spoonful of ice.

"Thanks", Shawn breathed out as he had swallowed that, too, and settled more deeply into his pillows.

Henry put the cup onto the small nightstand beside the bed, then, in a movement that had become natural to him over the past days, placed his own hand atop of Shawn's. Shawn looked at his father with a frown on his face, but he didn't say anything. Henry watched his son wordlessly for a few moments.

"Remember what the nurse said. If you're tired, just go ahead and sleep. I'll stay here."

Shawn smiled, but instead of settling down to sleep, both his eyes and his smile suddenly widened.

"Gus!"

Henry turned around and, true enough, Gus had arrived for his daily routine of relieving Henry. He was about an hour earlier than the days before, but Henry had long ago given up questioning those things with Shawn and his best friend. He wouldn't be surprised if Gus had had a gut feeling that getting to the hospital earlier today might just be rewarded.

"Shawn! You're awake!", Gus said and stormed over towards the bed, his expression somewhere between overjoyed and ultimate relief. "If you ever so much as dare to do something like that again, I'll kill you myself. We were worried!"

"Sorry, dude", was all Shawn brought out.

Henry squeezed his son's hand once more before he let go and got up from his chair.

"He just woke up a couple of minutes ago. But he needs rest, Gus, so don't keep him from sleeping if he wants to. There's ice if he gets thirsty." He turned back to Shawn. "I'll leave you two guys alone for a moment. I'll be downstairs, making some calls. Don't try to stay up if you feel like sleeping, you heard the nurse."

Shawn rolled his eyes again, but nodded. "Sure."

"All right. I'll be back in a few minutes."

Henry left the ICU for the first time in what felt like an eternity without the feeling that something horrible might happen in his absence. He took the elevator down to the ground floor and stepped out of the sliding glass doors into the bright early morning sun. For a moment he didn't know what felt different, but then he realised that he was smiling for the first time in days. Only Shawn could put somebody through such a rollercoaster ride of emotions. Only Shawn.

Henry pulled out his cell phone and switched it on. Then he called Karen's phone at the office, but the line was busy. Well, arraigning the Delgados still had to keep her busy, so Henry disconnected and called another extension in the police station.

"Lassiter", came the court reply after the second ring.

"Carlton, it's Henry."

"Any changes?", was the immediate reply, and Henry was sure he detected a slight tinge of worry in the voice.

"Shawn woke up a few minutes ago."

He hadn't been sure about the worry, but he was sure he had heard the sigh of relief that answered his statement.

"Is he all right?"

Henry shrugged, though Lassiter couldn't see. "As far as I can tell. He still has some trouble speaking, but he's coherent. My guess is that by tonight he'll demand sponge bathes and smoothies."

"Well, I'm sure everybody here will be relieved to hear that. I'll let them know that he's awake again."

"Thanks. I'll call when there's news. If his condition doesn't worsen again, he should be out of the ICU soon. I'll give word as soon as he can receive visitors."

"Good. Thanks for calling, Henry."

"Goodbye, Carlton."

Both men disconnected the call, and for a moment Henry did nothing but remained standing on the front steps of the hospital, holding his face into the sun and breathing the fresh air. He suddenly felt very, very tired. For the last couple of days, he had spent nearly all his time in the hospital. Sleep had consisted of a few hours of catnaps each night. But it was never dark in the ICU, so it had been impossible for him to get some real sleep.

He'd wait until Shawn was asleep again, then maybe he'd drive home and grab a few hours of undisturbed sleep.

Henry just remained standing outside in the sun for a few moments longer, then he returned into the hospital, following the by now well-known path to the ICU. He stopped at the coffee vending machine he passed on the way. Not because the coffee was extremely good here, but because it was only lukewarm to begin with, just the right temperature to have the cup finished until he arrived at the ICU. And despite the horrible taste, the vending machine people at least seemed to have gotten the amount of caffeine in the brew right. That was enough for now.

Gus was still sitting in the chair beside Shawn's bed when he arrived, and with a smile Henry noticed that Shawn was fast asleep again. Gus turned towards his friend's father and rolled his eyes slightly.

"He managed to stay awake all of five minutes after you left. One moment he was eating a spoonful of those ice-chips, the next he starts snoring."

"Only Shawn", Henry said, but there was a lot of affection in his voice. "Listen Gus, do you have any other appointments this morning?"

Gus shook his head. "No, I'm free all day."

"Would you mind staying with Shawn a little longer today? I think I need a couple of hours of sleep, in a real bed."

"Not at all, Mr. Spencer", Gus said. "You just go ahead and sleep, I'll call if there's anything you need to know."

Henry nodded. "Thanks. Ill be back early in the afternoon, I should be in time for the doctor's daily round."

Henry turned and left the ICU again, but this time he took the elevator down to the parking garage. Twenty minutes later, he entered his house, without haste for the first time in days, and instead of hurriedly going through his daily routines to get back to the hospital as soon as possible, Henry went into his bedroom, kicked off his shoes and literally fell into bed. He barely managed to pull the blanket up over himself, then he was fast asleep.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

A week had passed since Shawn had woken up for the first time. During the first day, Shawn was only awake sporadically. But that got better gradually, and as Shawn was taken out of the ICU the day after he woke up and was allowed to receive visitors from that afternoon on, he worked hard on staying awake for longer periods of time.

Now, a week later, Shawn was only a day or two away from leaving the hospital and – much to Henry's chagrin – figured that meant he was as good as new again. True enough, the infection was gone, there had been no respiratory problems at all since he had woken, and his wounds were healing nicely. But Henry still remembered what it had been like when Shawn had been hanging on by nothing more than a thread, and so he did his best to keep his son's physical exploits to an absolute minimum.

Shawn called it fretting.

Currently, Shawn was sitting up in his bed, talking animatedly to Lassiter, Juliet and Gus as Henry entered his son's hospital room. Though at first look it didn't look much like a hospital room at all. Most horizontal surfaces were holding flowers, get-well cards and presents from friends, people at the police station and their families. Shawn had been absolutely delighted at the amount of pineapple related presents he had received, and Henry knew that after visiting hours were over, Shawn had carefully read each card he had received, totally astounded at the number of people who had been worried about him. Not that he was letting that on now, but Henry knew.

"Mr. Spencer, we've just come to update Shawn on the case", Juliet greeted him, excitement in her voice.

"Really? Anything new?"

"Well, the investigation on our side is finished. Seems like the Delgado family is falling to pieces. When Little Ricky figured out that his father wasn't going to send a high-priced lawyer to get him out this time, he got nervous. As soon as he heard the words "attempted murder charge" he started spilling. Everything. He has cut a deal, and for the past two days he's been ratting out on his father with the DA."

Henry didn't like the sound of that. He had seen too many criminals get off easy because they had struck deals, that wasn't what he considered justice.

"What is his deal? He's getting off with ten to fifteen years?"

Lassiter shook his head. "No, no where near that. Deal is he's getting off with his life. He might have gotten off easier if it had been solely the attempted murder charge, but there's evidence that it was him who killed O'Leary. Add to that the possession of large amounts of cocaine with the intent to sell, and he understood what was at stake for him. So DA won't demand death penalty if Ricky tells everything. Which he does. He's even ratted out his potential buyer for the cocaine and gave us the goon who shot Bertolucci."

"What about Lorenzo?"

Lassiter shrugged. "Seems like Little Ricky wasn't as stupid as his father thought. He knew most of what Lorenzo had going on. So far, there's nothing tying Lorenzo to any of the murders he ordered, but to be honest, I hadn't hoped we'd get that. With the crimes we can prove now, thanks to Ricky, he's in deep enough trouble as he is, and IRS is still going through his financial records. And there won't be any deals for him, the DA is too clever for that. All in all he'll be looking at 20 to 25 years, and at his age that means he'll be in prison for the rest of his life, just like his son."

"Al Capone was also convicted for tax fraud", Gus threw in from the side.

Shawn shook his head. "How do you come up with that, Gus? I mean, really. Is there a "Dictionary of Nerdy Facts" you're looking all that stuff up in?"

"History channel", Gus merely said, in a slightly defensive tone.

"Anyway", Lassiter interrupted them. "Lorenzo is not very pleased with his son. It seems like he honestly thought he'd get out of that one like he always did. We have Little Ricky in solitary until his trial, because word is that Lorenzo put out a contract on his own son. Though it's too late for that, anyway, his statement is already on record. But we're being careful anyway."

"Doesn't hurt." Henry agreed.

"You're bound to hear from Internal Affairs again, Henry. They're still busy wrapping things up, but it seems like that has blown over, too. Ricky confirmed that the documents his father sent them were fake. They might ask you to make a statement, seeing that you didn't make the initial appointment, but that should be it. I wouldn't worry about it."

Henry nodded wordlessly.

"Right", Shawn interrupted the gloomy mood. "Anybody brought a knife? I have tons of pineapple only waiting to be eaten."

He was pointing at the fruit in question, but a moment later there was Henry's hand on his wrist, slowly and carefully pulling his left arm down to his side again.

"Dad", Shawn whined.

"No chance, kid. You're not supposed to be waving your arm around like that."

Shawn rolled his eyes, and Henry was tempted to forget his newfound appreciation of eye-rolls. "It doesn't hurt, all right?"

"Because you're still on medication. If you want to pull your stitches, be my guest, but you're on your own then. Or I could call in the nurse and have her bring a sling for your arm."  
With a sigh and a pout that was totally unbecoming of a nearly thirty year old man, but which Shawn could somehow pull off without looking ridiculous, Shawn sank back in his pillows.

"Right, we need to get going, anyway. We have another case to look into, we just wanted to keep you updated." Juliet stepped up to Shawn's bed and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Get well soon, all right?"

Shawn grinned. "Sure thing, Jules." As she stepped back from the bed, Shawn grinned at Lassiter and pointed towards his cheek. "Come on Lassie, show me how much you care!" He opened his arms wide as if expecting Lassiter to lean in for a hug. The detective, however, looked positively scandalised.

He was spared the need to think of an answer, any answer, by Henry.

"Shawn, if you don't keep your left arm still I will personally immobilise it. Are we clear on that?"

Again, Shawn rolled his eyes, but obediently let his arms drop. Lassiter, looking very relieved, nodded at Henry.

"Goodbye."

"I got to be going, too", Gus said. "I have a round to make. I'll be back tomorrow, all right?"

Shawn was about to answer, but again Henry interrupted. "Hold your horses there, Gus. I just talked to his doctor, most probably Shawn can go home tomorrow morning."

The smile that broke out on Shawn's face was threatening to split his head in half if it got any wider.

Gus was smiling, too. "Well, then I'll just call first, see if you're still here or not."

"Great", Shawn said and stretched out his right fist. They fist bumped, Gus said goodbye to Henry and left.

With a sigh, Henry sank down in the chair next to his son's bed.

"What exactly means _most probably_ I can go home tomorrow?"

"It means that the doctor wants to examine you again, thoroughly. And it means you're supposed to hold your left arm still."

Shawn sighed, but he settled in his bed with his left arm held still against his chest.

"My guess is, chances you're going to let me go to my apartment are slim."

"Nonexistent", Henry grumbled. "I know how you are about taking your pills."

"Not even if I tell you I have to water my plants?"

"No. I watered your one single potted plant earlier this week, and it didn't look as if it was used to such a treatment."

Shawn shrugged with his good shoulder. "Was worth a try."

Silence settled between them, and unlike the days before that, it was a rather uncomfortable silence. It was Shawn who finally broke it.

"At least those two will go to prison", he said. "I don't really care on what charges."

Henry sighed. "Yes."

"Do you really think Delgado put out a contract on his own son?"

Henry shrugged. "I told you. He's a heartless bastard, and the only person he cares about is himself. He must know that Ricky is talking to the DA, so if he thinks it can save his skin, sure. It's not exactly that Ricky was a son he's proud of. In Lorenzo's standards, Ricky is nothing but one big disappointment."

Shawn shifted uncomfortably, unwilling to admit how close those words struck home. He remembered how Lorenzo had yelled at his son in that warehouse, before Ricky had shot him. It had been nearly the same words he had heard from his own father, and not only once.

"What is it?", Henry asked upon seeing his son's expression.

"Nothing", Shawn said quickly. Too quickly. Henry merely raised an eyebrow at his son and leaned back with his arms crossed in front of his chest, waiting.

Shawn sighed. "Nothing", he repeated. "It's just…well, you have to admit we're not all that different, right? The whole mafia thing aside, both you and Delgado are just two fathers who are highly disappointed with their sons."

Henry looked at his son as if he had suddenly grown a second head.

"What?"

"Well, it's true, isn't it? Ricky was nothing but a disappointment to his father because he didn't turn out the way Delgado wanted him to. That does sound like us, even you have to admit that."

Henry stared at Shawn some more. Then he shook his head and sighed. "No. No, I don't have to admit anything."

"Then don't, but that doesn't make it any more untrue."

"Shawn, you'd better listen to me very good now, because I'm only going to say this once. We are nothing like Ricky and Lorenzo Delgado. That you even think for one moment that could be true is…I don't even have the right words to find an answer to that. Not to mention that those two are criminals…"

"I said aside from the whole mafia thing, Dad!"

"Shawn, Delgado was always disappointed in his son because he didn't turn out the way he expected him to be. Delgado wanted a brilliant successor who'd take on his business after he retired."

"Pot. Kettle. Black. Come on, Dad, you've trained me to become a cop ever since I was six years old. You can't say that this is any different, I didn't turn out the way you wanted me to, either. And now you're disappointed."  
Henry shook his head again. "No. Yes, I wanted you to be a cop. And yes, I wasn't exactly happy that you didn't chose to become one. But honestly, that wasn't exactly a decision you made overnight! But I've never once been disappointed in you for what you are. Never. I haven't agreed with all your decisions, and I am most certainly disappointed that for a large part of your life, you've simply chosen not to use the possibilities that lay before you. It's your _choices_ I've disagreed with, because I always wanted for you to make the best of the chances you've had, and time and again you _chose_ not to.

But that is a huge difference to what you're saying. Shawn, the Delgados are the epitome of dysfunctional. Delgado never once cared for his son once he figured out that Ricky wasn't clever enough to succeed him, and from then on he simply tried to keep him in check so that he wouldn't get in the way of Delgado's business. That's all there is to their relationship. No, I know that we're not exactly a role model father-son team, either, but I refuse to believe that there we're just like that.

Shawn, Delgado doesn't give a damn about his son. He put a contract out on him, for Christ's sake! To me that pretty much says he doesn't really care whether Ricky lives or dies. And I can tell you that this is one thing we differ in greatly. Because I care a great deal whether you're alive or not, Shawn. For a large part of the past week, that's all I've been thinking about."

"But I didn't trust you", Shawn said, his face a worried frown.

"No son, you _doubted_ me. That's a huge difference. And you were right to doubt me, because I wasn't telling you the whole truth."

"I thought you were being paid off by the mob!", Shawn said, straightening up in his bed and gesturing in the air helplessly.

"Shawn, your arm. Keep it down." Shawn complied with an exhausted sigh. Henry nodded. "You've actually for once just done what I taught you. You interpreted the facts you had. I was keeping things from you, and without all the information you had no chance to see the whole picture. That's all there is to it." He sighed. "I know we're not always on the same wavelength, Shawn. Things between us haven't always been easy and we both made some pretty stupid mistakes. But I've been telling myself that we've been getting better over the past years. I'll probably never stop trying to push you into finally using your potential, and you'll probably never stop having your own outlook on life. We'll just have to work around that, don't we?"

A small smile showed on Shawn's face. "Yeah. Maybe we should try that."

"We definitely should. And compared to the Delgados, we're the Waltons."

"Dad, they had _seven_ children. Last I checked, I was an only child."

Henry rolled his eyes. "All right, not the Waltons. The Ingalls. Little House on the Prairie."

"Still too many kids. And they didn't have a son, Dad."

"Did, too."

Shawn grinned. "He was adopted, that doesn't count. Or do you want to tell me something?"

"Don't get your hopes up", Henry said, grumpily but with affection. "You're definitely not adopted. I carry the full genetic responsibility."

Shawn cocked his head to the side with a grin. "Hold your horses, I'll just get my cell phone to record that. You only have to repeat it."

Henry shook his head. "No chance. And you're not getting any cell phones, the only thing you're getting is more rest. I'll drop by again later, and if I get to hear that you've been flapping your arm around again, I'll personally make sure that they strap it to your body before they release you tomorrow."

Shawn saluted with his good hand. "Yes, sir!"

Henry got up from his chair and in passing squeezed his son's good shoulder. "Get some rest, kid. If you're good, I'll bring you a smoothie."

Shawn immediately lay down in his bed and demonstratively kept his left arm motionless. Henry smiled.

"See you later, kiddo."

"Bye Dad."

Henry left the hospital room, shaking his head in amusement. Most probably, Shawn would never grow up. And what was most disturbing was that somehow, that was his most endearing trait.


	14. Epilogue: Unfinished Business

**Epilogue: Unfinished Business**

_California, roughly 122 miles from Santa Barbara, 2007_

"Shawn, for the last time, where are we going?"

"For the last time, Gus, the basic concept of a surprise is that the surprised doesn't know it. I'm fairly sure telling you where we're going would ruin a crucial element of that surprise."

Gus rolled his eyes and leaned back in his seat in the car. He cast his eyes to Henry, who sat beside him on the backseat, but Shawn's father was merely looking straight ahead with an expression on his face which absolutely didn't let on what he was thinking.

Gus sighed. "All right, let me run this through again."

Shawn checked his mirror and changed lanes. "Gus, we've been through this about a hundred times in the past two hours. You're not getting any more information until we arrive."

"Arrive where?"

Shawn sighed and looked at his friend in the rear-view mirror as if he was daft. "The place of the surprise."

"And it was important for that surprise that we leave at six in the morning?"

Shawn nodded. "Yes, it was. The early bird gets hit by two stones and all that."

Gus didn't even bother to correct his friend. "And it was important that we take my car?"

"Yes. Because it would have been quite uncomfortable to fit all three of us on my bike. Besides, _somebody_ doesn't let me drive it yet even though the doctors officially cleared me for all forms of traffic activity."

Henry silently raised an eyebrow. "I told you I'd let you drive the bike as soon as you figured out where I put the keys. It's just a little exercise of mind, Shawn."

"For all I know, you buried them in the garden."

Henry smiled. "I gave you all the clues as to where they are. You just, once again, refuse to see the greater picture."

Before Shawn could reply, Gus interrupted them. "Yes, that's horrible about the bike, you have my sympathies. But could we get back on topic? For example, why couldn't we take your Dad's truck? Driving in that would have been much more comfortable than squeezing us here into the backseat. Not to mention that you forced both of us to take the backseat and still haven't told us why!"

Shawn checked his mirror again and took the upcoming exit. "All right, I think I can tell you why. I needed a car with a backseat, and I needed the two of you to stay in that backseat so that you wouldn't be able to stop me in case you figured out where we're going."

"Wait!" Gus' eyes went wide. "You know that we won't like where we're going? And still you're taking us? Shawn, stop the car right now. I don't like this."

Shawn only grinned. "Oh, but you will. It might just take a little time. Can't a guy just take his Dad and his best friend on a daytrip?"

"Not you Shawn. That's why I'm worrying. So now tell me where we're going!"

Shawn's grin widened and he took another turn, slowed the car down and steered it into a parking space. "Nowhere. We're there."

Henry was already staring out of his window with a look of blatant disbelief on his face, and finally Gus turned his attention away from Shawn and looked out, too. While Gus simply gaped speechlessly, Shawn picked his backpack from the passenger seat and got out of the car.

"Come on guys, get out. Or do you want me to leave you in the car?"

"No, no, no Shawn! You can't be serious about this!" Gus leaped out of the car and slammed the door shut. Henry got out more dignified, but still he looked as if he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing.

"Disneyland, Shawn?" Gus was on a roll. "You're taking us to Disneyland? I'm thirty years old Shawn, what on earth made you think I wanted to go to Disneyland?"

Shawn shouldered his backpack, the movements of his left arm no longer impaired in any way, and locked the car.

"Gus, you're not seeing the greater picture here."

Henry snorted, but remained silent. Shawn shook his head at him, then continued to talk to Gus.

"You remember our trip to Disneyland, don't you?"

Gus nodded. "Of course. What's that got to do with anything?"

"Everything." Shawn's excitement was tangible. "Think Gus. What was the one thing we didn't get to do during our visit here? The one thing we've been looking forward to but didn't manage?"

Gus frowned. "We took all the rides. More than once. Besides, that was twenty years ago, the rides are totally different today. What are you talking about?"

Shawn grinned and started to turn towards the entrance. "You'll figure it out, Gus. And if you do, you'll know where to find me. And now excuse me, I'm off to see an old friend."

As Shawn walked away, Gus turned towards Henry.

"Do you have any idea what he's talking about?"

Henry shook his head with a sigh. "I had rather hoped you knew what this was about."

"Is he still on medication?"

"No. Hasn't been for over two weeks. He's thinking quite clearly. Well, as clearly as Shawn is capable of. But what's that business about an old friend? Do you know anybody who works here?"

And suddenly, realisation settled on Gus' face. Followed immediately by panic. Without wasting another word at Henry, he started to run after Shawn, yelling on top of his voice.

"Shawn! Shawn, stop! Those are real people in those costumes! Shawn! I swear, if I find just a single firecracker in that backpack of yours, I am going to kill you! Shawn! Stop!"

Now Shawn started running too, away from Gus and towards the entrance. Gus was still yelling. "Shawn, that was funny twenty years ago! As a purely theoretical concept! It's physically impossible to send Mickey into space with a bottle rocket! Shawn, they're going to arrest you!"

For a moment, for just a moment, Henry was sorely tempted to just remain by the car and wait for either Gus or Shawn to return. Then he shook his head with a smile and set off towards the entrance at a much slower pace than his son and Gus. He didn't doubt that sooner or later he'd catch up with them.

- The End -

Thanks to everybody for sticking around. I have two more multi-chaptered stories finished and ready for posting, but only if you like to read them, of course :D Just let me know.


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